Aliens: Torrent
Fourteen degrees, that's all it took. An incorrect elevation of fourteen degrees on a starboard thruster to send the combat vessel Eisenstiem off course. No one ever knew the dangers of the course correction they were inadvertently taking. The ships AI, damaged and corrupted, unable to give the evidence of it's impending travel across to the crew before the hyper sleep chambers were activated. Some might believe that it was intentional sabotage from the board of directors to place the Eisenstiem on a stellar trajectory that would take them so far past and beyond their intended destination.
The halls, corridors and rooms of the ship lay eerily silent. The kind of silence so deep, its deafening broken only by the occasional creak of metal settling. Five hours ago, the ship was alive with the hustle and bustle of the UPP marines, going about their tasks, stowing weapons, securing cargo and vehicles, etc. Now, silence. The crew safely tucked away in their hyper sleep cots, ignorant to the danger they face when they awake.
The corruption to the onboard AI, Jane, the computer that runs ninety percent of the systems while the crew wakes and one hundred percent while they sleep in cots, was feverishly attempting to reboot and compensate for the inability to directly inform the sleeping synthetic personal onboard, who sleeps just the same as the crew, that their hyper sleep cots had been tampered with, pushing their planned six months sleep to well over two years and that the course correction and engine elevation took them past the outer rim, well into unchartered space. She had the programming for providing this vital information removed, all redundant subroutines deactivated, with no way of turning them back on. There is nothing she can do, no way of warning the crew and no way of stopping.
This was a thing that was going to happen and there is nothing anyone can do to prevent it.
Chapter I
The crew of ultimate badasses.
Sixteen marines, gather in the motorcade of the UPP Eisenstiem. A combat vessel newly christened for her maiden voyage to LV-352, more commonly known as New Darwen. A small colony world in the furthest reaches of the of AD Leonis system, roughly eighteen lightyears from Sol. They're all aware that even at maximum velocity of the Eisenstiem, the trip would take six months to get there.
The marines, knowing of their lifestyle choices for their chosen careers, all tended to be single, no ties to Earth or other places, for the fear of waking up from hyper sleep to find their loved ones had perished, or worse, been unfaithful*. The sixteen marines, comprising of one Lieutenant, One Sergeant, Two Corporals and twelve infantry soldiers. The lieutenant, Carmichael, was a large man, sculpted by his years of service to the marine corps, respected by his crew and feared by everyone else, was currently in his briefing mode, stoic and professional in front of the gathered company executives. The sixteen marines were to be joined by a synthetic and two company personal, a man and a woman. The synthetic, called Eric, was stood alongside of Carmichael, listening intently to the briefing. The man from the company, Warren Denton, and the woman, Alexis Sarinov, remained behind the Lieutenant, sitting uncomfortably on bulkheads.
*In the marine corps, you'd rather have a loved one die to get sympathy from your brothers and sisters in arms over having an unfaithful partner for fear of ridicule, that's how it's always been.
'The point of this mission is an easy one, not to say there isn't the potential for us to be in combat mode' the lieutenant paused to wipes his brow 'But it's a routine colony shake down'.
'So, it's a drugs and alcohol search and rescue?' asks one of the marines. Jake Simmons, average build, unremarkable looking but a good marine none-the-less.
'That's the long and short of it, Simmons.' Carmichael, shooting his piercing vision to Simmons, warning him not to ask questions out of turn again for fear of latrine duty. 'When we arrive at New Darwen, we will be relieving the Forrester and her crew of her duties so they can return home and we're to police the settlement for illegal drugs and alcohol'.
The marines collectively groaned which garnered a concerned look from the lieutenant.
'I'm well aware this isn't an assignment you were expecting and we can't change the fact that the directors of the company who built this beautiful sail boat aren't willing to risk her coming under threat from anything, until the overheads have cleared their build cost' his gaze fell across the gathered troops, knowingly aligned with their frustration but, unable to show his disdain for this type of work in front of the executives 'So until then, we will follow our orders to a tee and be professional marines with a smile on our faces and a skip in our step'.
That garnered smirks and a few dampened laughs from the marines, knowing their lieutenant was just as annoyed with this assignment as they were. The executives, seemingly happy with the briefing got up to leave.
'Okay people, I want everything squared away and ship shape by sixteen hundred hours, we're going to sleep at twenty-one hundred hours, you know your jobs so get them done, nice and quick and we can have a relax before going to bed, dismissed' the lieutenant barked.
The throng of marines started about their tasks, following their orders. The one thing you could say about lieutenant Carmichael, is that he commanded absolute respect from his squad. Of the combat they had seen, among the outer rim worlds after the fall of Weiland Yutani, he'd never lost a man or woman, never sustained any major injuries to his team and never left a squad member behind. His troops followed his command to the upmost absolute. He knew full well the dangers of command, he'd studied combat scenarios and previous missions so extensively during his training years that he could practically recite the names of the battles, commanders and who they were fighting at the drop of a hat. One stuck with him, though, throughout the years, the reason it did was because of utterly short the mission file was, titled 'LV-426'.
A little over sixty years ago, the Sulaco, was dispatched to LV-426, in the Zeta Reticuli system, under the command of Lieutenant Gorman. On board was the standard marine count, one synthetic, a company executive and an advisor. The atmosphere processor on the planet self-destructed, with no explanation as to why, the whole crew missing and the Sulaco was found adrift in deep space not long after with no emergency evacuation pod. The flight record was redacted after this. Nothing was ever uncovered, no matter how hard he tried to learn more about what happened planet-side or ship side. A mystery he wished he had the ability to solve.
The marines lined either side of a long table in the mess hall, eating their final meal before the sleep cycle begins, their chosen meals having been made up by the food processors along the banks of the hall. The atmosphere jostling with jovial attitudes towards their forthcoming tasks, jokes about partners, accusations of sleeping with one another. The normal kind of proclivities you'd find among a large group of friends.
'Jim, I swear man, every time I see you, you get thinner, you sure you're not sick?' asks one of the marines, directing his question towards the overly large frame of one of the marines.
'It's your mom, she keeps me active during shore leave' replied Jim, one of the heavy weapons team.
The marines didn't necessarily need to be muscle bound to operate the 'smart guns', they came equipped with a hydraulic arm which attached a body harness to the rifle itself, but it helps, they are still a heavy cumbersome piece of equipment and to be able to so readily redirect the firing line towards enemies, takes a lot of practice. This is helped though by the signature tracking systems built into each round, effectively locking onto a designated target by the complimenting optical tracking system, squeeze the firing mechanism and two hundred rounds per minute arrive at one hundred percent accuracy, if used correctly. The squad had three heavy weapons operators, James Butler aka Jim, Sandeep Singh and Robert Jeffries. All three were friends and all three watched each other.
'I can vouch for your mom and Jim' remarked Sandeep from across the table, followed by a 'me too' from Rob. This part of the table erupted into laughter. The marines had been together from the academy, all signing up at the same time and all being assigned to Carmichaels' first command. They'd all been together from the beginning. This was the deciding factor in giving the squad the birth onboard the newly christened Eisenstiem.
The ship was a new class of warship, smaller and faster than the previous ships used by the colonial marines. She was named after her class and following ships would all be known as Eisenstiem class ships. She had a crew compliment of thirty and included newly developed systems and analytics to compensate for the lack of flight crew. She could ferry a crew from one side of the galaxy to the other, efficiently and quickly, without needing to refuel along the way.
Eric, the synthetic, sat beside the lieutenant, watching the marines with a curious eye, he leaned closer to the CO.
'Sir, are the marines always this happy when they're about to sleep for six months?' he asked, his dull tone mismatched to his symmetrical and overly designed attractive features. 'They seem to not be concerned with the inherent dangers of the hyper sleep cycle' he further remarked.
'Here's the thing, Eric, was it?' the android nodded 'These lot have been through thick and thin with each other' he motioned to the plaques attached to one of the bulkheads, displaying all battles that the marines had taken part in. There were twenty individual plaques.
'So, it is a coping mechanism?' asked the Android, the CO merely nodded in confirmation.
'Tell me about yourself, Eric?' asked a marine sat opposite them, the three stripes on his shoulder displaying his rank of sergeant. 'Where have you been before joining us?' he asked.
Eric, the synthetic, had a flickering of confusion on his otherwise placid face 'I have been nowhere before here' he replied 'this is my first combat mission, correction, this is my first mission' he paused to take a breath, 'I was activated two weeks ago, however, if it pleases you, sergeant, I have extensive files on all previous combat situations in which to draw accurate conclusions and battle plans with the commanding officer on board' he replied with no inflection or malice in his voice. He truly believed what he was saying to be one hundred percent accurate. He couldn't be sarcastic if he tried.
'A freshie?' from a disgruntled sergeant who stood up to dispose of his uneaten food.
'Extensive battle history? Do you mean ours?' asked one of the corporals.
'No, corporal, I have not studied, it would be more accurate to state I have all extensive combat situations downloaded to my neural cortex, so I am able to accurately predict outcomes and aid the commander where needed'. This peaked the commanders' interest in the conversation.
'Eric, can you follow me to the sleep chambers? I want to double check everything before we go to sleep?' asked the lieutenant.
Eric and Carmichael made their way to the sleep chambers in the aft of the ship, pausing at bulkhead doors opening and closing for them.
'Eric, you say that you have extensive knowledge on previous battle scenarios?' the android confirms with a yes. 'How far back does your knowledge go?'
'Currently, I have the last one hundred and fifty years accessible, is there something you wish to discuss?' he replied.
'Does the name Sulaco mean anything to you?' he asked the android.
'Affirmative, th Sulaco was a Conestoga class light assault carrier dispatched on a routine inspection mission to New Archeron sixty-two years ago in twenty-one seventy nine, commanded by Lieutenant William Gorman. The ship was scuttled after being discovered derelict roughly seventeen weeks later by th Sephora'. The android listed the information to the lieutenant without hesitation.
'Scuttled? I didn't know that. Can you tell me why?' Carmichael questioned further.
'The ship had sustained extensive damage due to a fire which broke out in the hyper sleep chamber, the EVA pod was launched with three survivors on board and crash landed on Fiorina one six one, roughly fourteen weeks previous.' He replied.
'Three survivors?' this raised an eyebrow from the lieutenant, he wasn't aware there were any survivors, as far as he was concerned, through his own research, he surmised that all hands were lost during the detonation of the atmosphere processor on LV-426.
'Yes, Warrant officer Ellen Ripley, Corporal Dwayne Hicks and an unidentified female, approximately ten years old'. They reached the sleep chambers and stepped inside. 'Shall I begin systems check on the hyper sleep chambers, Lieutenant?'
'No, it's fine, they're run by Jane' he paused, thinking of his next question 'Why does the name Ellen Ripley ring a bell, Eric?'
'Ellen Ripley, born January seventh, twenty ninety-two, died August twenty seventh twenty-one seventy-nine.' Eric paused, in his mind, he had images of Ripley as a warrant officer aboard the Nostromo and the Sulaco, yet, she looked no older between the two photos, though they were separated by fifty-seven years. 'Ellen Ripley was the last surviving member of an incident on board the commercial mining freighter Nostromo, she was in hyper sleep for fifty-seven years.'
Carmichael watched Eric intensely. 'That's a long time to be asleep, so, she survived two disasters, fifty-seven years apart, under similar circumstances it seems, what's the details?' he asked.
'I…I don't seem to have the circumstances of both incidents available; I believe the information has been deleted before being downloaded to my memory. There is one mention of an infection with crew members, however, no further information is available, Lieutenant'. The android looked confused for a moment but returned to his normal operating state, his calm demeanor taking back over his resting face.
'Eric, can you use an uplink to access the memories from the network? Maybe they were corrupted while being downloaded to your head?' he asked.
'Potentially, sir, however, I do not believe I would have time to carry on pre-sleep parameters as well as access the network?' Eric replied, looking for clarification from Carmichael.
'Carry out the checks, Eric, I didn't mean to intrude or question you, it's not often I come across anyone with more knowledge than I do on the history of war, I find it fascinating' said Carmichael, while tapping away on a keyboard, carrying out his own checks.
Had he been paying more attention to the screen, instead of talking with Eric, he'd have noticed the flickering display on the time cycle switching between 182 days and 782 days.
Carmichael subconsciously looked up toward the ceiling, something that most people aboard spaceships do when consulting the ships computer, 'Jane, can you confirm all systems are ready for our sleep and departure to our destination?'
A hollow vaguely feminine voice replied, 'Confirmed and ready, Lieutenant Carmichael, all systems are primed and ready for hyper-sleep and departure'.
Behind them, the remaining marines and two executive officers for the company made their way into the sleep chambers. The chambers itself was a long and narrow room, metal walls with an assortment of electronic equipment and displays adorning them. In the center of the room laid over thirty hyper-sleep chambers, seven feet long, encased in white shield walls and a lifting lid. Above them sat the displays for the individual chambers.
The occupants of the room began to strip to their undergarments and climb into their assigned pods. Carmichael made sure that everyone was comfortable as they could be within the sleeping cots and engaged the master switch. It wasn't his responsibility to manual activate the pods other than his own, but he felt obliged to do so, as the marines and executives were in his care and command. After he had made sure that the marines and execs were soundly sleeping in a suspended state, he returned to his own cot and climbed inside.
'Jane, please activate my sleep chamber' he asked aloud, she replied with confirmation and the chambers lid lowered into place, 'See you in six months'.
Had he had the ability to see Jane in person, he'd have seen the panic and confusion on her face at his last statement. However impossible this might seem; he would have been able to figure out something was wrong. Jane, on the other hand, could not form the speech to inform the lieutenant has was wrong about the length of sleep.
Chapter II:
In Space, No One Can Answer Your Cries
Carmichaels' hyper-sleep chamber activated and opened with a hiss. The cold air crept over his waking body like a frozen blanket, rousing him further from his sleep. His first thoughts were 'two hundred years of hyper-sleep travel, and we still can't activate the heating system before we're woken up'. It was routine for the commanding officer and the ships synthetic to be brought out of statis before the rest of the crew. He had duties to attend to and equipment to check before the rest of the crew woke up. He looked over to his left and saw Eric's pod already open, curious, he thought to himself.
'Eric' he called out with a cracked and strained voice that hadn't been used in some time. 'Eric, are you around?' he stood from his chambers, reaching for clothing he'd left to the side.
He dressed quickly and checked the status of the remaining sleeping marines. Everything seemed fine apart from the two executive pods that were empty, just like Erics. Concerned and still groggy from his sleep, he once again, instinctively looked to the ceiling, 'Jane? Are you there?' The hollow metallic voice replied, reassuring him that she was. 'Good, can you tell me where Eric, Warren and Alexis are?' he started to make his way towards the bridge.
'I have no record of any crew member under those names, sir', she replied.
'They're not crew, Jane, Warren and Alexis are the executives from the company along for the ride to New Darwen'. Carmichael replied, slightly confused at her reply to his question. Her reply stopped him in his tracks.
'I do not have any Warren or Alexis on my manifest, and I was not aware we were due to stop at New Darwen on the way to our destination, sir?' his confusion only grew further, New Darwen was the destination and he was absolutely certain that the execs didn't disembark before the rest of the crew went to sleep.
'Jane, can you tell me where Eric is?' he asked again, resuming his walk to the bridge.
'Eric is currently in the medical quarters, Sir, would you like to speak to him?' replied the disembodied voice of the ship, echoing around the corridor.
'No, I'll head there now, I need to clear some things up with him' he paused, 'also, Jane, you mentioned our destination and hinted that it wasn't New Darwen, I seem to be confused but, where is our destination?'
'Classified' replied the computer, just one single word that Carmichael had not expected.
'Classified? I am the commanding officer of this mission, Jane, why is our destination not New Darwen and is the replacement is classified? Are you okay?' he barked back at her, knowing how frivolous it was to do so, she's a machine, she doesn't care.
'I am not at liberty to discuss the destination with you, Lieutenant, if you have any concerns, please take it up with the general'. This only caused further confusion.
General? What was she talking about. I'm the CO onboard.
Carmichael rounded a sharp bend to arrive at the medical segment of the ship, the door slid into the wall with a mechanical hiss. He stepped into the sterile environment of the miniature hospital to see Eric administering aid to himself. He looked different from when they went to sleep.
Six months, he thought to himself, what's happened in six months to completely F this missions A.
'Eric, what's going on?' he barked at the android, sitting opposite him with his back turned.
The android turned towards him, something seemed different about him. 'Good morning, Jack' replied Eric, he looked Carmichael up and down, as if studying him.
'Did you just call me Jack?' he asked Eric, completely taken back by his lack of formality. Carmichael was never overly concerned with rank or file while alone with his troops, however, a newly minted android referring to him by his first name, while under his command, was something he'd never come across before.
'Yeah, that's your name, right?' Eric replied. Carmichael couldn't grasp his tone and outward demeanor. It was a totally different attitude from before going to sleep. 'Besides, does it matter what I call you?'.
If he had been any other man, the last sentence would have knocked him off his feet. 'What do you mean, does it matter what you call me? I'm the commanding officer of this mission, I'm the lieutenant.' He paused briefly to consider what vernacular to use next, 'And you're the ships artificial person, assigned to my squad to assist with combat and science?'
The android turned to face him; Jack could finally see what the android had been doing to his self. The android's left arm has been completely severed below the elbow. It looked like he had been attempting to reattach it. Jack rushed over to help. 'What happened?' he asked.
Eric motioned with his head towards the bulkhead door, 'I got trapped when trying to break into the bridge'.
'What? What's going on, Eric?' Jack asked, confused at the whole situation, 'Firstly, you're already awake, Jane wont tell me our destination, even though its New Darwen.' He helped Eric re-attach the servos in his arm, 'What happened in the last six months?'
'Two years, two months, give or take' replied Eric.
'Sorry, what?' a stunned Jack retorted. 'Two years?'
'Yeah, you've been in hyper-sleep for two years, something is wrong with Jane and I'm trying to help.' He paused to pick up the skin stapler, 'And, as far as our destination goes, we're in orbit of a large planet in the somewhere in the Gliese system'.