Astronomicon: Behemoth

Chapter 1 - Where are the Stars?

Megan took a few moments to feel steady on her feet. Her muscles quickly relearned how to move having not done so for over eleven years. She could not properly lean on the cryonic pod as it was suspended from the track above by just two lightweight chains and a hefty power cable.

She reached inside the pod's cavity to scoop up the cellophane-wrapped pack of neatly-folded, white overalls that had been stowed beside her feet when she had originally been placed in storage. Her fingers were not fully responsive but she did her best to tear open the cellophane and pull out the clothing inside.

After shaking the legs out straight, she pulled the simple garment over her bare legs, lurched dangerously, then caught herself and set about pushing her arms into the sleeves and zipping up the front. It had been eleven years since she had last shaved her legs. Even with the hugely reduced hair-growth experienced during cryonic freezing, she still had no intention of letting the crew see her legs.

Using any available handholds, she wobbled her way across the four-metre diameter room to a circular hatch that would give her access to the command section.

Her head was foggy, her vision blurred and her muscles resisting every movement, but things were improving second-by-second.

She hit the green button on the closed hatch door and a light indicated that the tube beyond was fully pressurised. She set about spinning the circular handle that would release the hatch, a job that usually took seconds but her reduced strength and poor dexterity made the simple task take more than a minute.

Pulling the hatch open, pleased to hear no tell-tale hiss, she pushed it to the side and locked it open. Still willing her muscles to move, she hauled herself into the metre-long, smooth tube and set about spinning the handle at the other end to open the hatch into the next section.

By the time she was pushing open that hatch, her muscles were screaming in pain and she felt exhausted. She grabbed the handles either side of the hatchway and heaved herself out into the command section, the central tube of the vessel. Once her feet were on the deck, she gripped the hatchway handles and took a few seconds to catch her breath.

Foxy had already activated the main room lights in Seating Area 2, one of two communal areas with harnessed seats for any crew members who were not still in cryonic storage during the final descent stage of their voyage. Eleven identical, padded seats with five-point harnesses lined the perimeter of the chamber apart from where the four wall hatches were positioned evenly around the room. Slim, white lockers with concealed handles covered all the wall space above them.

A single, white-painted ladder in the centre of the room spanned the height of the room between identical hatches in the floor and ceiling, both currently sealed as was the correct protocol during the voyage.

Megan moved as quickly as she could to the ladder, steadied herself again then began to heave herself slowly upwards. It seemed her leg muscles were recovering faster than her arm muscles. She ignored the growing aching, climbed three rungs then wrapped her left arm around the ladder and used her right arm to hit the pressure sensor button.

As soon as the green light illuminated, she set about unwinding the locking mechanism. With only one arm available, it took even longer to open this one but eventually she was able to push the hatch upwards and out of her way. Next came the job of climbing the next few rungs and getting hold of the bottom rung of the ladder on the deck above.

Again, Foxy had already activated the lights in Seating Area 1, a room identical to the one below apart for the lack of wall hatches and four extra seats where the hatches would have been. She climbed this next ladder and followed the same procedure again to open the next ceiling hatch.

Emerging into the next level, Megan decided to sit on the edge of the open hatch and take a break for a few seconds. For someone who took pride in her physical fitness, the lack of strength was embarrassing and more than a little annoying.

She looked around at the room designated as 'Communal/Briefing' or CB as they had all nicknamed it during training. It only had six seats, grouped on one side of the room, but had a semi-circular white table as near to the centre as the ladder allowed, a counter running around almost a third of the wall space opposite the seats and several large display screens attached firmly to the walls.

Most of the rest of the wall was a mass of elastic straps, some metal handholds and two areas of velcro pouches filled with supplies. The counter featured several heating drawers for food and gave access to drinking water, eating utensils and a rubbish chute. The rest of the space beneath the counter was food and drink storage.

This room was the communal centre of the craft and doubled up as a briefing area if that became necessary during the voyage. Megan could not get her head around the concept that, although it felt like she had been in there yesterday, it was more than eleven years since she had last entered that chamber.

Feeling slightly rested, she continued her climb. The next level was the cabins section. She had always been a little annoyed by the use of the word 'cabin' to describe these diminutive pods. Apart from an almost two-metre-wide cylindrical space around the ladder which continued its ascent to the next level, the whole deck was split into four quadrants, then further divided vertically into two mini-floors. Curved, sliding hatches provided adequate access into the eight awkwardly shaped 'cabins' each little more than a large, self-contained bunk with a little space to store some belongings, clothes and toiletries.

Each cabin had a small, wall-mounted screen to provide access to the vessel's vast digital library of movies and music and was designed to give any defrosted crew members a space to sleep and enjoy some limited privacy. If the voyage had all gone perfectly to plan, the cabins would not be necessary, but the mission psychologists had insisted they would be critical if any crew members were awake for any portion of the voyage.

As soon as she was able, Megan climbed the final stretch of ladder and opened the top hatch. Her limbs were screaming in pain as she heaved herself onto the deck of the control room. For a few moments, she just lay on the deck, willing the strength to return to her arms and legs.

"Foxy, activate the screens in here."

"Yes, Commander," replied the computer as all the screens, a mix of laptops and tablets attached to most available flat surfaces, switched on near simultaneously.

"Are any systems showing faults, Foxy?"

"No, Commander. We have minor depletion on some battery systems, but that is expected due to their age. Two heaters are not working at full capacity and a bulb has blown in tube fourteen, but nothing which raises any concerns."

"Is the E.M. shield still working?"

"Yes, Commander, but it has not registered any impacts since the markers were lost."

"That's possible."

"It is unlikely," replied Foxy.

Megan looked around the circular control room. Each of the four consoles was paired with a heavy-looking G-chair with a padded five-point harness. In the centre of the bridge was an identical chair on a taller pedestal with a swivel mechanism which allowed the vessel's commander to face any console position that was pertinent in any given situation.

"Foxy, lift the particle shields on the forward portholes."

"Yes, Commander," replied the computer, simultaneously raising the metal plates that covered the outside of the four rectangular portholes in the ceiling.

Megan looked up immediately, but it took a few seconds for the view ahead outside to become visible.

"Foxy, we need the command crew woken up. This is crazy."

)---(

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