Jos opened his eyes and looked around him. He must have stood up too fast when he stepped out of the ventilation shaft. At least he hadn’t revealed their presence here by falling over, or getting sick.
Jonah didn’t seemed to have noticed that anything had been amiss. He was peering over the silver barrels into the vast brightly lit room beyond. Jos moved up beside him and inhaled sharply. He had heard of such engines in theory, seen the plans, the blueprints, but nothing could have prepared him for the actual presence of the great machine that dominated the room.
It was the size of a large house, a mass of heaving metal and plastic. Parts were of nickel, parts of ivory, parts had certainly been filed or sawn out of rock crystal. It was huge, brutish and ugly but with a strangely compelling elegance, like some sort of prehistoric predator swimming the oceans of space, devouring all that entered its path. But most entrancing was the engine’s strange song. From the depths of its belly came a ghostly sound, like a howl or a whale song. At irregular intervals it broke free and filled the room with an eerie song. And beneath it all was the purring hum, a note so low and loud that it made teeth buzz and bones vibrate.
Surrounding the beast were dozens of displays, each shooting multicoloured readouts into the air, relaying the demands of the engine. The technicians scurried around and obeyed the whim of the machine, whether by pushing the buttons, turning the dials or pulling the levers that were spread around the room in a seemingly random manner. But arcane white markings painted on the steel walls suggested that beneath the chaos was a deeper order - an order that the uninitiated could not perceive.
“Just look at them,” Jonah whispered.
“Look at who?”
“The technicians, just look at them.”
Jos looked at them again. Apart from their rather peculiar yellow uniforms, nothing stood out as being unusual.
“What am I looking for?”
“Well,” said Jonah, “look at that man over by the moon-shaped projection.”
He indicated a dark haired man wearing a large green stethoscope.
“He looks as though he’s checking the image for faults, but watch his eyes.”
Jos watched his eyes furtively glance from side to side, as if trying to keep each of the other technicians in view at all times.
“Or look at her, she’s monitoring the neutron flow, apparently, but what is she doing with her right hand. Why is it trembling as she pushes buttons on an unrelated console?”
“Jonah, there are any number of explanations...”
“And look at him! He’s in charge of the readouts in the far corner - what’s he doing on this side of the room? Why is he so interested in those panels?”
“This isn’t conclusive evidence, Jonah. If this investigation is up to me than let’s not jump to any conclusions. We need to find out more information about the power failure and check for more booby traps on the engine itself. I still think that this is the most likely target for anyone hoping to bring this ship down.”
“Sounds logical to me,” Jonah whispered. “Okay then, what’s the plan?”
“First thing we need is a little privacy.”
Jonah laughed. “Leave that to me - I have an idea.”
He slid across the room and into the corner, unseen by all but Jos. His grace and ease of movement was almost uncanny. Jonah set to the computer and the projection changed so rapidly it became impossible to follow. A moment later and a piercing scream filled the air. Jos smiled - a fire drill.
Moaning about lost time, the engineers filed out of the room in an orderly fashion, as huge steel fire-doors sealed shut behind them.
“And now we’re alone,” shouted Jonah, making himself heard above the noise of the engine and the alarm. “Perhaps some introductions are in order - Jos, meet the Morpheus Engine Mark 5.6, Morpheus, this is Josiah Smith, full-time professor and some-time hero.”
Jos wondered if he should bow. “Jonah, can you check this thing for traps? I’ll try to find out what’s been going on.”
Jonah nodded and darted across the room. Jos did not know how long they had before someone realised that there weren’t any fires. He hoped it would be long enough.
“Just be careful,” he shouted at Jonah, “the last trap was well hidden and easily triggered. Expect protection.”
He hoped that Jonah had heard him over the roar, and headed over to a sealed cubicle. He opened the glass door and stepped inside.
Once the door had shut behind him, it was like being in another world. Separated from the rest of the engine room by layers of soundproofing, it was utterly silent and still. The walls were white and bare, the floor was polished steel. At the centre of the room was a small wooden chair, and on the floor in front of it was a small black cube, the size of Jos’ fist. It was soldered to the floor but gave no indication as to its function.
Jos walked around the chair a few times, examined the box on the floor, but could see neither keyboard nor socket to plug one in. If it was a computer, there seemed to be no way of operating it. Unsure of how to proceed, he sat in the chair.
For a few moments he just sat there, trying to work out what to do. Perhaps it was thought operated?
In the instant the thought passed through his mind, Jos felt a sharp pain at the base of his skull and then his mind was filled with images as the computer came to life. Direct-to-Mind interfacing! He had read about it, and had thought it sounded terrifying. Now he was sitting here, it was both as frightening as he had imagined and somehow liberating. Images were being forced into his mind against his will. The white walls and the black box of the room were yet visible to him but Jos was also aware of numbers and letters swirling through his head - patterns and tables, strings of computer code.
Jos closed his eyes to better concentrate on the visions that were bursting into his brain. He tried to force some sort of order upon the chaos, willing the numbers to resolve into a system he could operate.
He became aware of a buzzing at the back of his head, like a small muscle tremor. Ignoring it, Jos tried harder, and sensed that he was succeeding. Patterns began to emerge and he thought he could begin to discern meaning from the symbols. The buzzing grew stronger and started to really hurt, as if Jos was being bitten by a thousand tiny insects. The symbols grew darker, as red as blood. Something was terribly wrong. They swarmed like a sudden storm, swirling and threatening. The pain intensified and spread down his back.
Panicking, Jos threw himself forward and off the chair. He landed on his knees. The images had stopped. Blood pumping, sweat forming, he knelt there and caught his breath. It was deathly silent. He climbed to his feet and stuck his head around the door. Instantly, the frantic sirens buffeted his eardrums - where was Jonah? He was running desperately around the room, frantically checking the systems.
He closed the door and felt the silence close in around him. A deep breath, then he sat back in the chair. This time he was prepared for the images. They had returned to their former placid character. How could it be hacked? How could it be accessed? He sat in thought, musing on the problem and found that, without him really thinking about it, the computer was arranging itself around his thought patterns.
‘Seems I need a gentler approach’ he thought, and let his mind drift. It was probably some sort of security system that had rejected his earlier attempt. A protocol to refuse unauthorised access. Now he wasn’t trying to force the computer to work, it seemed to be adapting to his needs, just not very quickly. He willed it to hurry and found that the buzzing sensations returned. ‘I guess we’ll work at your pace’, he said.
Jos’ thoughts returned to his time machine, as they tended to do when he let them wander. It had all seemed so easy all those years ago, when the basic structure had come to him. It had seemed like it ought to work but he had never found a power source strong enough yet adaptable to the varying pressures. But at that moment, that one instant, it had all been so clear.
He was sitting at his desk, at home, surrounded by books and papers he hadn’t yet had a chance to put away. A white cup of coffee was beside his right hand, rapidly cooling. He knew he would never finish it - he had been here before, in this situation, and yet he had never seen so clearly. Every detail now loomed large in his mind - the creased spines of the books, the corner that was torn. Each letter and number on each piece of paper seemed to speak to him, leaping from the page. His hand moved smoothly, writing in crisp black ink, sliding easily, as if it had a mind of its own.
And now he had it - it was so simple! He had detailed the possibility of a machine that could travel through time, the prototype lay on the paper before him, sketched and labelled, two-dimensional but perfect. It could work! He could invent the first time machine.
And now Ammi would walk in.
“Jos?”
“Hmm” he had hardly even noticed her presence, though now he was on fire with the smell of her perfume, could feel the heat from her body not a metre away.
“Are you coming to bed soon?”
He had continued working, not looking up.
“Soon, soon. Can’t stop now. I can see the machine, I just need to get it all down.”
“Okay.”
He had not noticed it then but now it was painfully obvious. The tenor of her voice betrayed her pain. How had he not noticed it? She turned to go - a wave of scented air struck Jos like a slap in the face.
“I’m going early in the morning,” she said, “I expect you will visit.”
He had nodded, not really listening, but as she turned to go he caught a final word wafting in the air - “Eventually.” How had he not heard that before? She turned and left. The door slammed shut behind her. He had only noticed how it had made the pen slip.
Jos forced his eyes open. The white wall and black box returned. What the hell was the machine doing to him? That vision had been so real, clearer than a memory. Was this supposed to happen? The computer code was still there, and he thought he could almost make sense of it now, though it kept slipping from his grasp. He could not give up yet, and closed his eyes once more.
His lips found hers without his volition, and his eyes closed. Cold, soft, sweet and dry, like red wine. Their tongues met voraciously. Josiah slid his hand onto her leg and slowly moved it up. Her hand was on his waist reaching for his belt. Impatiently, savagely, he undid the buttons of her shirt and his hands met her skin - it was cold and firm, smooth as silk.
This was not his wife. What was he doing here? Where was he? Her eyes were open, painfully green, piercing and sharp. Her smell was intoxicating, like nothing he knew. Her clothes shimmered from brown to green in the soft light, and tumbled to the floor as he shed them. Last of all she stepped from her snakeskin shoes, and it was then that Jos knew who she was, and where they were.
He had done it then, betrayed his love for Ammi. Even as he kissed this strange woman’s skin, ran his fingers across her body, he felt tears well up in his eyes. He willed himself to stop but couldn’t. He had not stopped then and could not stop now. It was so sweet, so right.
No!
Jos fought to open his eyes once more, and faced the black box. This was not who he was, he was not a bad person. Everything could yet be made right.
First one building collapsed, then another. Consumed by a growing wave of light and heat that spread across the city at incredible speeds. Concrete, metal, glass and plastic rippled, melted and fell. A vast explosion tore buildings to shreds. What was this he was witnessing? What was happening? What could destroy a city like that?
ACCESS GRANTED
The green letters flashed across his mind. All other images faded and vanished, like mist. Jos shook his head to clear it. He had gained access to the system - that was what mattered. If he could sort this out, everything else could be solved later. He had to find out if the ship was in danger, if there was some sort of conspiracy to destroy it. His other problems would have to wait.
While the room was clear before him, now tables and windows opened up in his mind’s eye, and he found that he could manipulate them all with a flick of a thought. He was sliding through data now, skating over computer code faster than light. Somewhere in all of this there was an answer. The power loss had been at 5:56 am. That was the key. Who, or what, had caused it?
As his mind formed the question, Jos found his thoughts being drawn down the network of interlacing files, drawn inexorably to a data stream, time-stamped 5:55 am. With a mental impulse it opened and images began to crowd his vision.
An unfamiliar room overlaid his senses. Consoles against each wall spewed data into the air but no engineers were there to observe them. In the centre of the room stood a cluster of figures wearing red uniforms. He could see them in every detail, each hair on their heads stuck out in Jos’ mind; he was aware of each flake of skin. In such stark detail, they seemed grotesque and inhuman. Jos did not recognise most of the figures but one stood a little apart, her stature marking her out as the boss. It was Major Cassandra. Her bones seemed to stand out from her face, giving her a macabre profile.
“Gentlemen,” she intoned, voice harsh and commanding, “if there are no further questions, we can proceed according to the plan. Initiate protocol 56, emergency power shut down.”
The others moved to obey her, fanning out to different consoles.
“This is it, gentlemen,” the Major continued, “the moment we’ve been preparing for. Now, execute!” She barked her final word and the image vanished.
The computer had stopped, and Jos was simply sitting in a wooden chair, staring at a black box.
Just as he was trying to reinitialise it somehow, a strange wave of heat hit the back of his neck. The lights stuttered and died. Confused, Jos turned around.
Huge gouts of flame were leaping from a corner of the room, blooming like a blossom in spring. The red was of roses, the orange of a glowing sunset, and through it all were threads of blue like sapphire. Shards of metal flew like a shower of falling stars, twinkling and glowing, silently tracing their path across the sky. It was strange and beautiful.
Then the glass door shattered, the soundproofing was breached, and the noise exploded all around him, pounding through his bones. A blast of hot air struck with unimaginable force, hurling him backwards as if he were nothing but a leaf caught in a thunderstorm. He flew against the wall.
For an instant afterwards, he was aware of nothing.
Then he was himself again and wondered what had just happened. He was on the ground, for some reason, and tried to stand. Everything was a little shaky but he managed to regain his feet. Why did his head hurt? Jos reached up to touch it and found it was moist with blood. Maybe he had banged it on the table.
As his senses recovered and his mind regrouped he realised that, now the room was actually on fire, the alarms had ceased to peal. And the room was on fire, part of it at least, and was giving off an intense heat Jos could feel even across the room.
Jonah!
He staggered forward through lumps of charred metal and melted plastic. Reaching out a hand to steady himself, he looked disinterestedly at a shard of something embedded in his arm. Where was Jonah? Was he hurt?
“Jonah!” he shouted.
Then, above the noise of the engine - at least the engine was still running - Jos heard a clink and rushed to the source of the sound. Jonah was pulling himself to his feet, dusting down his ash-coloured clothes and checking to make sure his body was still in working order. He looked up with delight when he heard Jos approaching.
“You’re okay!” he shouted.
“I’m fine, are you?”
“Perfect, never better.” He paused. “Jos, you have a piece of metal in your arm.”
Jos looked at his left arm in amazement. He did have a piece of metal in his arm. Why didn’t it hurt?
“Um. What should I do about it?”
“I’m sure I heard somewhere that you shouldn’t take it out but that doesn’t seem very sensible to me.”
Delicately, Jonah reached over, and slid the shard of metal from Jos’ flesh. Now it hurt - Jos fought back a scream of agony. Blood welled up through the jagged cut. At least it hadn’t cut an artery. Jonah tore off a strip of his cloak and bound the wound. The grey fabric turned red.
“What the hell just happened?” Jos asked, once the pain had died down enough for rational thought.
“There must have been a trap after all - I was looking in the wrong places. I thought they would set the main engine to detonate but the blast came from the retros.”
Before Jos could say anything, he noticed a strange red dot appear on Jonah’s forehead.
“FREEZE!” someone shouted.
Jos barely registered the presence of security before he found himself being flung behind a slab of twisted metal. Jonah ducked and rolled, moving faster than Jos had thought possible, missing the bullet by a fraction of a second as the security guard hesitated for an instant too long. Then the two of them were side by side behind the hot metal, breathing heavily.
“We’re trapped,” Jos said, urgently, “they’re between us and the exit!”
Jonah just smiled mischievously.
“We have you surrounded,” came a voice that Jos instantly recognised - Major Cassandra. “Surrender now and you won’t get hurt.”
“Jonah! I saw the tape. Cassandra started the power drain.”
Jonah looked a little sad, his brow creased. “Well, no one said this would be easy.”
“Josiah!” came the voice once more, along with the muffled footsteps of Security guards edging closer. “Look around you, there’s no one here but the two of you. Jos - you’re a reasonable man. Your ‘friend’ is a homicidal lunatic. Forget what he’s told you. There is no conspiracy. The only people endangering lives are you.”
“She’s afraid - she knows we’re close,” Jonah whispered.
“They’re getting close. Look, this is all over.”
“Not by a long shot,” Jonah grinned. “Let’s get out of here.”
Jos swallowed his next question. Asking how they would escape with guards blocking their only exit seemed somewhat pointless. Moving to one side, Jonah put his hand to the floor, found a small gap, and gently removed a section, revealing a dark tunnel. Jos wasn’t at all surprised.
Here we go again, he thought to himself, as he slipped into the darkness. Jonah sealed the panel behind him and scurried off. Jos followed but could have sworn that he heard a “shit!” just before the engine room was lost behind them.
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