The Sylvester Part 3
Back on the stranded space ship, following a small lantern of hope through the darkest, stinkiest pits of despair. Communication is the key.
Note from the author:
If you haven’t yet, head to the following pages to read the first and second instalments of the Sylvester series:
And here we are, still lost in space:
Bo led me to one of the decks in the lower half of the ship. Cabins lined the wall. The light was dim and unstable. He knocked on one of the doors, and a ‘Come in,’ grunt came from it. Bo opened the door slowly and motioned for me to wait in the corridor.
I heard whispers and grumbling, and then Bo came out with a man who had to crouch down to fit in the door. He was in the blue uniform worn by mechanics; it was crumpled, stained, and open on the chest. He looked me up and down and asked Bo: ‘This your guy?’ Bo nodded and stepped forward. ‘Officer Granada, this is Magnus, the head mechanic of the Sylvester, and one of the few mechanics left on board.’ Magnus snorted, rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, then placed it on his hip.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘Bo here tells me you have a big idea to get us out of this giant clusterfuck. Is that right?’ I nodded and said, ‘It’s more of a hunch, actually.’ Magnus scoffed and shook his head. ‘My best mechanic Robbie jumped from the main deck. Jim and Carter followed him. Dan and Tobias have been wasted for the past week. And I had to stop others from going berserk in the guests’ quarters. We had to set up a watch.’ He looked at me. ‘I don’t want any of us to go to the other side with stuff we might regret. You never know who’s watching.’ He shook his head. ‘All this speech to say, don’t think I trust you or your hunch, fancy pants. But I’m tired of losing my men and you have a key to the officer room. So, let’s go.’
We walked in silence to the stairs and climbed all the way back up to the command deck. The closer we were, the slower we walked. The command deck was exactly the same as Bo and I had seen it earlier. Silent, with the weak lights flickering. Bo touched my arm. ‘Do we have anything to cover our nose and mouth?’ I checked my emergency kit. ‘I have two respirators. Just two, though.’ Bo looked at Magnus. ‘You and Magnus should wear them, officer. I can stay here and keep the door open. Change the air a bit.’
We nodded, and I fished the respirators out of the bag. Magnus and I put them on. Bo tied a couple of handkerchiefs over his face. He looked like a bandit in a centuries-old comic book. I grabbed my officer badge from my pocket and took a deep breath through the respirator.
I slid the badge on the reader. It beeped and went green. The door disappeared within the wall. Magnus and I had to take a few steps back and started coughing despite the respirators. Bo made a grunting noise and stoically stood in the doorframe to prevent it from closing. He was bent over himself, breathing heavily. He gestured frantically for us to go in, and once we passed him, he tore the handkerchiefs off his face and started puking violently outside the control room. The control room was now open, releasing the stale dead meat air it had been holding for weeks.
Magnus and I were in. Bo was still puking outside. Magnus tentatively touched his back, but Bo gestured again for us to move on. So, Magnus turned towards me, and we looked inside the control room. The light was even dimmer than in the rest of the ship, but as we walked in, our eyes started to adjust. Unfortunately.
The big round table with the motionless officers was right in front of us. And no window stood between it and me now. Next to me, Magnus was breathing heavily. He pointed to a corner on the other side of the table. ‘Radio’s there. Let’s move it. I want to get out of this cursed place.’
We walked around the table to the other side. We passed an officer slumped on the table, and I couldn’t help but glance at him. The face was unrecognisable, a bloated, splotchy purple. Around his head, a dark, slimy-looking stain. His hat was hanging neatly on the chair. I gulped down a gag and turned away.
Magnus was already in the corner, inspecting the radio. He looked at me. ‘This is not looking good. The power cable is shot, for a start. We’ll have to replace it before trying anything else. Officer, look in the cabinet next to this table, there’s normally spares.’ I started looking around, saying: ‘Do you think they have tried it already…?’ I stopped talking and lifted up my finding for Magnus to see: a bundle of burnt cables. He cursed and shook his head. ‘Those idiots. They must have panicked and tried fixing the radio before the systems settled. Between Lucretia and the power shortages, the worst decision they could make. Too bad I was assigned to the engines.’
Whilst he talked, I was rummaging around in my emergency kit. We were lucky. I pulled out a roll of cable and showed it to Magnus. His eyes widened. ‘How do you have that? It’s not standard emergency supply.’ I looked away, mumbling, ‘My technician is a bit overly cautious.’ ‘Well, if we make it out of here, your technician is getting a big fat Venusian kiss. Give me that.’
I smiled and handed him the cable. He looked it up and down, tried it on for size, and sighed. ‘This could either work or mess up the radio for good. It’s not exactly the right type of cable. One more power fluctuation and this thing goes up in flames.’ He frowned. ‘Maybe… I don’t know.’ ‘What?’ I pressed him, ‘Maybe what?’ He looked at me. ‘Maybe if we connected it directly to the emergency engine. Shorter distance, less cable, smaller chance of short-circuits. But it means moving the radio ten floors down through the stairs. Without dropping it or bumping it anywhere.’
I nodded to him. ‘There’s three of us. We can do it. Plus, I’m sick of this place. Let’s go.’ He grabbed my arm. ‘You’re the officer,’ he said, ‘I’ll do it if you take responsibility.’ He crossed his arms. I put down my kit, took out the tape recorder, and pressed the red dot: ‘Date 7th of the 10th circle, 1st quarter, year 3183. Aboard SS Sylvester, currently stranded, location unknown. I, officer Louis Granada, junior officer aboard the SS Balthasar since trip 01/3183, take charge of the rescue effort aboard the SS Sylvester, and assume full responsibility of any action undertaken during said rescue effort. Let’s do this.’
Magnus nodded, satisfied, and pulled a spanner out of the cabinet. He quickly started unscrewing the bolts that attached the radio to the table. I helped him with my kit’s spanner. Then, he lifted the radio. It was small enough that he could hold it by himself. I followed him with the rest of the parts: the headpieces, the keyboard, and the bag with my kit.
We found Bo still holding the door. His face was green, and a big puddle of vomit stretched out next to him. He seemed immensely relieved when we told him we were leaving. We all made our way down to the engine rooms. When we passed the crew’s quarters, Bo asked: ‘Should we call someone else to help?’ Magnus shook his head. ‘The others are hanging on by a thread. If it doesn’t work, they will go crazy. Might have our heads, too. It’s better to keep it to ourselves until we know for sure.’
In the engine room, we set the radio on the floor and got to work. After a few tries and copious cursing, Magnus managed to connect the cable to the small, puttering emergency generator. He wiped his forehead and said: ‘Now I’ll turn this piece of crap on. Then it’s your turn, junior officer Granada. I know you have the code for immediate contact.’ I felt my face flush. Immediate contact was supposed to be classified company information. I crouched down and nodded to Magnus to turn on the radio.
He flipped the switch, and my heart skipped a beat. What if it doesn’t work? Then, a humming started. I took a deep breath and put on the headpiece. ‘Zero, Two, Twenty-five, Sixty, Seven, Zero, Nine, I’m officer Granada from the SS Sylvester. Is anyone there?’ No response, just the humming. ‘Zero, Two, Twenty-five, Sixty, Seven, Zero, Nine, from the SS Sylvester, we need help. Is the Balthasar on the line? Please.’ More humming. My heart sunk. My voice was almost shrill by now. ‘Zero, Two, Twenty-five, Sixty, Seven…’
‘Granada, is that you?’
For a fraction of a second, I was speechless. The voice repeated ‘Is that officer Granada from the Sylvester on the line? Please answer.’
‘Henry? Henry, is that you? Please, tell me it’s you.’
‘You fucking jerk, you had me scared to death! Where are you?’
I started laughing, completely hysterical until Magnus slapped my arm, and I snapped out of it.
‘I’ll sum it up for you.’
Eeeek!! Another tense installment in the Sylvester saga. I love the way you write sci-fi, Magnolia: masterful and tight. Grim and nasty too. Wonder how they’re gonna get outta this one?! ❤️🔥
Great little SciFi Story!! love the gritty details!