( Read the previous episodes of Journey to Centauri.) |
Journey to Centauri : Episode 21 "A stowaway? Could this even be possible?" asked Pravin Lal, receiving the news from ensigns Dana and Cassiano with concern."How could they stow-away? Everyone needs a cryocell," said Miriam from a small gray bench in one corner of the command center. Lal had already called up schematics of the ship on a large touchpanel and was centering on the cryobay in question. The diagrams appeared as a complicated mishmash of lines representing cables and cross-feeds, snaking one over the next. "I can not make heads nor tails of this." Saratov moved over and began to punch through the confusion. "Isolate and examine each part," he said. Color coded grids flashed out of existence one by one. "See here. These are technicians’ notes, linked from these small star markings. Here are the earlier ones…this section was built by the Russians." He straightened a bit with pride. "Would your Russian precision have allowed an extra cryocell into the schematic?" asked Miriam from her chair in the half-light. Saratov glanced at her angrily. "It is not the Russians, I can tell you. Look, this was before the economic collapse of 2058. There is no Codicil." "What is that?" asked Lal. "A statement by the head technician. An affirmation that the scientists have done their best work, and the hope that it will serve its function well." "You mean a blessing?" asked Miriam, smiling from her perch. "Nothing of the sort. It is a way of asserting closure." "We’ll have to talk of prayer some time," she said, nodding at him. "Whichever it is," said Lal. "It is not U.N procedure." "But it is tradition," answered Saratov. "And there are no notes regarding the cryotests." "So...they forgot these tests?" "Not possible. There would have to be notes on the tests. All tech notes by the agent of any world government are public view, but if a private company was brought in later they would often conceal their tech notes." He tapped in a complex series of commands. "We all know how many agencies worked on this project by its completion." A final tap, and then an array of tiny yellow diamonds bloomed across the schematic. Saratov nodded. "A private company took over after the Russian economy collapsed." Lal reached over and tapped a diamond. A tech note opened with a scanned image of the lead engineer, a thin, pasty individual. But Saratov pointed to the company code in the lower right corner. "Morgan Industries," he said. Just then the exit hatch hissed open, and everyone turned to see a large African man fill the opening, his face regal, his body clothed in the folds of a black robe, and his hands bound. A security officer stood behind him, dwarfed by the man’s presence. "Nwabudike Morgan," the man said in a deep, rich voice, and lifted his hands. "I paid for part of your ship, and there is no need to bind me." Continue on to Part 2... |
