Sunspots Page 4

  She's got a point. We all only found out it could do that when it decided to take a walk to the Sun by itself, while we were all asleep. Just as I think we're getting somewhere, and things are actually beginning to look up, another problem rudely presents itself. An idea then pops into my brain.

  “I'll be back in a second,” I say and walk to my office. Once in, I open the grey cabinet and start looking through all the paperwork messily piled up at the bottom. Finally, I see what I'm looking for and pull it out slowly while trying not to knock the precarious pile over in the process. It's a massive book, about thirty centimetres by forty, and about ten deep, dog eared and old. I hold it up to my mouth and blow on it, and am pretty disappointed to find there's not really any dust on it to blow away. I walk back out to Kerry and Mark and bang it on the console table.

  “What is it?” Mark asks.

  I look from Mark to Kerry with a big grin on my face and clap my hands once.

  “This, my good man, is how we're going to solve our coupling problem,” I say. They both look at me blankly.

  “It's only the bloody instruction manual!”

  Kerry rolls her eyes.

  “You absolute fucking idiot. I actually thought you may have a decent solution up your sleeve. Bloody instruction manual, you prick,” she says and shakes her head.

  “And in all my years of experience, men don't like to use instruction manuals.”

  Mark looks at her with a grin and is about to say something when she cuts him off sharply.

  “Don't you fucking dare.”

  His grin disappears immediately.

  “I didn't say anything!” he says in mock protest and raises his hands in surrender. He looks back at me.

  “Anyway, I forgot to ask, what was wrong with the engines? It didn't seem to take all that long to fix in the end.”

  “Oh yeah, Robert seems to think that it was sabotage. I think I agree with him. By someone who knew what they were doing. Turned out to be a spoon- shaped piece of metal purposely lodged between the plasma thing and the other bit next to it,” I say, not really thinking.

  Mark stands up fast, with an expression of disbelief and horror on his face.

  “You mean one of us is a saboteur?” he asks.

  I hadn't thought of it that way, I had sort of gone along with Robert’s idea that whoever did this was on board the hangar section. One of us? Really? I know it definitely wasn't me, and suddenly that's the only thing I'm sure of now.

  “I don't think that's very likely,” Kerry says and puts her hand on Mark’s shoulder, and he slowly sits back down.

  “None of us is smart enough to know how to stop the engine working without completely knackering it up for one thing, not even Robert, bless him. And it was me who suggested he look there in the first place.”

  “We don't know anything about Tim,” I add, feeling slightly guilty.

  “True,” she says. “But we don't really know anything about this situation either. Other than the fact that our opposite shift has gone missing. Presumably they're on the hangar, and that's done a runner too. Oh, and our engines have been sabotaged. Actually, when you say it out loud, it sounds fucked-up enough to start a full-on mass panic.”

  She pauses, scrunches up her face and looks upward for a few seconds, then continues.

  “You're right though, John, we know nothing about any of the dump techs we get. We assume they're vetted in some way before they come aboard, but ultimately we don't know who they are, and never really know until we set out.”

  There is a silence as we all think about what she's just said. I don't know anything about Tim, except that he’s really eager to please, very well-presented, and doesn't seem to like Robert very much. Which kind of puts him in my good books if I’m honest. As far as I can tell, he doesn't come across as a saboteur. But then, I don't know how a saboteur is supposed to come across. If he has done this for some reason, I'm pretty sure he's not going to just admit it, so there isn't really any point asking him. But what other option would there be? There are no weapons on board, so the only option would be threatening to blow him out of an airlock. I don't think any of us could do it. I certainly couldn’t. On paper, we’re pretty much the worst shift in the company; I’ve seen the graphs. We get by on the fact that our opposites are quite a lot better at their jobs than us, so we don't have to do very much. Anyone could have pulled one over on us and we wouldn't even have noticed. It's more likely that everything that has happened so far, has happened because the other shift wanted it to. That idea sort of clicks into place in my head, and seems to fit the situation quite nicely. Nicely, but it's also quite terrifying. I thought maybe they were trying to save the day, maybe being a bit selfless, heroic even, but the sabotage completely fucks that theory.

  Tom has had a massive problem with us for a while now, and he constantly files reports on us when we get back to the Moon depot. Nothing is ever done about those reports. As long as the job gets done, Mr. Hooper doesn't seem to give a flying fuck. I've heard it drives Tom mad. That's only on the grapevine obviously, no actual evidence to back that up, just whispers and gossip. He's always quite nice to me face to face, to be fair. But he knows we're really not up to the task. Hell, even I know that. But is he pissed off enough with us to leave us out here? It's possible, I guess.

  The more I think about it, the more it kind of makes sense. The only way we've got out of this so far is by an event that usually wouldn't happen in a million years: Robert actually listening to something that Kerry had suggested. I’m pretty sure now that Tom and his shift have set us up, and have left us out here to die. Or at the very least make us look incompetent enough to get us all sacked. That probably makes the most sense. But by sabotaging the engines while the ship was still cruising on its own inertia towards the Sun, they would have ultimately got us killed. Holy fuck, they were trying to kill us.

  I look from Mark to Kerry.

  “There's nothing to do now but wait for the proximity alarm to go off when we close in on the hangar. You guys may as well get some food, or something,” I say.

  Mark walks up to me.

  “I'm not going to be able to eat anything, I'm a little bit freaked out at the moment,” he says, wide-eyed.

  Kerry moves close, and speaks in a slightly hushed voice.

  “What are we going to do about Tim then?” she asks.

  I rub my face, not really knowing if it's a good idea to mention my newly formed and slightly flimsy theory about Tom and his shift. But I guess it'll stop any sort of confrontation with Tim, and that would make my life a little easier at the moment.

  “In all honesty, I don't think Tim's done anything. I'm seriously beginning to believe that maybe Tom and his missing crew are responsible for this. Not in a saving the day kind of way. I think he's definitely on board the hangar, but I think he sabotaged us, and was going to leave us out here to die.”

  Kerry is just about to speak up when we hear footsteps climbing up the ladder. Tim’s head pops up and he looks at me. He's about to talk when instead he looks at Kerry and Mark. Both are staring intently at him.

  “Everything alright up here? Do any of you need a drink or anything?” he asks slowly, looking slightly uneasy.

  No one says anything, and the silence is starting to get a bit loud. I say the first thing that comes into my head.

  “They're just freaked out because of the sabotage thing.”

  His eyes widen.

  “What sabotage thing?” he asks.

  I suddenly realise I haven't told him about it either, and feel like I've kind of put my foot in it. He does need to know, so better late than never I suppose.

  “Oh bollocks, yeah, it looks like the engines were sabotaged.”

  I'm about to mention to him that I think Tom’s shift is responsible for the sabotage, to make him feel more at ease and spread my theory as far and wide as possible. But I realise that will do the exact opposite, and probably freak him the fuck out as well as Mark.


  “Did you find out anything in the cargo bay?” I say quickly.

  Tim shakes his head.

  “Nothing seems amiss down there from what I could work out. I entered my access codes, and it just buzzed at me. According to the computer, nothing out of the ordinary has occurred. Everything seems to be how it’s supposed to be.”

  He climbs out of the hatch and walks over to the thick book on the console table and rubs his hand on it.

  “You don't see too many old books like this around nowadays, especially one this big. What is it?” he asks.

  “Oh, it's for when we catch up to the hangar. None of us has any idea how to link back up with it, so I thought I'd get the instruction manual out. I doubt it's been used for years. But it should hopefully have a guide to all the functions on the ship,” I reply, sounding as upbeat as I can.

  “I thought all that info would be on the computer,” Tim says, and starts to flick through it.

  “You'd think so, but no. The boss is way too paranoid about getting information stolen to allow us to put anything useful on there.”

  “No, he's probably right,” he agrees absently.

  Kerry walks to the ladder, and starts climbing down.

  “I'm gonna get a coffee and some cake. Cake is the best thing for a fucked-up situation like this. No, two cakes. Maybe even some chocolate,” she states, and then vanishes down the hatch.

  I realise that I haven't eaten anything yet today, and notice that I'm sweating slightly and have a slight case of the sugar shakes. Chocolate does sound like a good idea. I follow her down, but stop before my head goes under the deck.

  “Tim, when you've finished flicking, can you bring the manual down to me on the rec deck?” I ask.

  “No worries, I'll be right with you,” he replies, but doesn't look up and continues to flick.

  8

  I climb down the ladder, and Mark follows me briskly, leaving Tim alone on the bridge.

  Kerry, Robert, Mark and I end up sitting on the table that's closest to the pool table, each taking one side of it, and all facing each other.

  “How are we going to deal with this … situation then?” Kerry looks and sounds like she may be a little bit on edge. Usually out of all of us, she's the hardest to fluster, she'll shoot you down first. But I'm beginning to see tiny cracks in her armour.

  “I assume you're talking about Tim?” I say quietly.

  “Of course I'm talking about fucking Tim! Who else could I be possibly talking about?” she whispers loudly.

  I'm guessing the cakes haven't helped her with the fucked-up situation this time.

  “I really don't think there's a situation with him,” I say.

  “So you're sticking to your half-arsed theory about Tom and his crew? Do you realise how fucking stupid that sounds?” she says, and seems annoyed with me for suggesting it in the first place.

  “It's the only one that makes sense to me. I know for a fact that Tom is actively hostile towards us behind our backs.” I didn't really know that.

  Mark looks up towards the hatch to the habitation level and bridge.

  “Why have we just left him up there? He could be doing any number of sinister things,” he says in a slightly hushed voice, and points upward.

  “I assume you and Kerry both logged out of your stations?” I ask.

  They both nod their heads.

  “He can't be then, can he?” I say and hold out my hands to make a point.

  Robert joins in.

  “Look, I agree that Tom doesn't really like some of us, and I agree that he is trying his hardest to get some of us sacked, but that really isn't motive for leaving all of us marooned out here. Tom's asked me to be on his shift loads of times, he's well-aware that Sam doesn't know what she's doing. I’ve only said no to him because of my loyalty to this shift. He certainly wouldn't have left me out here to perish.”

  What a load of bollocks.

  “Tim is the only suspect as far as I'm concerned.” With that he folds his arms.

  “Could this not be some sort of misunderstanding? You know, maybe something has been missed?” Mark says and looks hopeful, and then lowers his head slightly. “No, I guess not.”

  “Look John, I'm with Robert on this one. Even with the shit about Tom wanting him on his shift,” Kerry says, sounding now like she’s annoyed that she’s ended up agreeing with Robert.

  “Fuck you Kerry, Tom did ask me. He's asked me loads of times. Sam is useless.”

  “Look, stop arguing, I'm on your side, you stupid fat fuck.”

  “Shut up, all of you,” I say. “What do you want me to do? There's no evidence. Not for anything, either side.”

  “We could have some sort of trial, maybe,” Mark sheepishly pipes up.

  I look at him. I'm not sure what to say, it's beyond stupid. We need to be working together, not fanning the flames even more.

  “We're not having some sort of half-arsed trial, Mark,” I say flatly.

  “I think we should. I think Mark's right,” Robert says and smiles.

  “Really? How exactly are we going to proceed then, Robert? Bring him down here in irons? Sit him down and charge him? With what exactly? Who's going to be the judge? Who's fucking impartial enough to be the judge for that matter?! Then what are we going to do? What happens if you find him guilty? What happens?! This is ridiculous. You're fucking ridiculous.”

  “I think I'd be qualified to be judge, and he'd be judged guilty,” he says and smiles.

  I look down at the scratched surface of the table for a few seconds, and all my senses seem to go numb. I stand up and walk around the table towards Robert. I can feel the eyes of every one looking at me, except for Robert, who's still smiling and looking at Mark. In one swift motion I punch him as hard as I can. In the ear.

  It's enough. He cries out and falls off his chair and onto the floor with a loud thump. I don't know what comes over me next, but before I realise I'm doing it, I'm kicking him again and again in his fat gut. I stop as I suddenly come to my senses, and stand back from him. The room is dead silent. I look around. Kerry and Mark both have their mouths open and are staring at me. Very slowly Robert starts whimpering. It's an awful, pathetic sound, and I start to feel terrible. It gradually gets louder until he's fully bawling his eyes out. He's curled up in a ball, and his whole body is heaving in time to the cries. His eyes are full of tears, and I can see a bubble of snot come out of his left nostril and pop. I'm a little bit ashamed of myself.

  Kerry looks at me with wide eyes. I can't gauge her facial expression until she shouts at me.

  “What the fuck?! Seriously! How's this going to help anything?!”

  She stands up and pushes me backwards hard, and I almost lose balance. She stops, holds her hands open in front of her chest and tries to compose herself, and then sighs. She puts her hands together and looks at me, her expression now more one of a concerned mother.

  “John, I’m sorry, I didn't mean that. But fuck, did you really have to start kicking him? I know a lot’s happened today, but my God … John, we've still got hours to go until we reach the hangar bay. It's probably best if you just fuck off for a bit, while we calm this shit down.”

  I don't say anything, only nod slightly at her and head to the ladder. I decide to go to my quarters; I think I need a bit of time alone before I talk to anyone again today. Part of me feels pretty good about what has just happened, I guess that'll be the kick of adrenaline, but that's fading fast now and the feeling's turning to nausea. I wish I could embrace that part of myself sometimes, without the come down, without all the self-doubt, just go with it and see where it takes me. It probably wouldn't be anywhere good. And I realise that I'm glad of the nausea at the pit of my stomach. It was this part of myself that fucked everything with Ez, even though she doesn't know it yet. I'm sure her family do by now.

  I open the door to my quarters and slam it closed for no good reason. I go over to the sink and run the cold tap, cup my hands under the flowing water and splash
my face a few times. I pick up a towel from the floor and dry my face, then drop it back where it was. I kick off my shoes and lie down on the bed, and stare up at the grey ceiling. I notice a spider web in the corner, and begin to wonder how the spider that created it managed to get on board. There are too many possible reasons for this. Has it been here for years? Or did it hitch a lift on me from the Earth or the Moon? Maybe it got on board when the ship was built. What was that, thirty years ago? Do spiders live for that long? I doubt it. For fuck’s sake, spiders are the last thing I should be thinking about. I'm in limbo. I'm between two places, neither of them good. I'm not supposed to be here, the events of today have managed to keep me focused on other things, and well away from the reason I'm not still back on Earth. But it doesn't change the fact that I shouldn't be here anyway. I … we had plans.

  9

  “Why am I wearing a purple tuxedo?” I ask Jacob. “I don't ever wear this sort of thing. I look like a fucking idiot.”

  “Then we'll all look like fucking idiots. But there's no way we'll get in wearing anything less,” he replies.

  “Get in where? Why won't you tell me?” I look to Terrell for some sort of support but he just smiles and looks absently upwards. I guess he knows everything.

  “John, we're taking you to the ball,” Jacob finally says.

  “Why, in the name of piss, are you taking me to a ball?”

  “Not a ball, John. The ball,” he says and smiles.

  “Okay then, let me rephrase: Why, in the name of piss, are you taking me to the ball?”

  “Because it's going to be fucking amazing, that's why.”

  Jacob does occasionally have suspect judgement, but it always ends up being entertaining one way or the other. I look at myself again in the full-length mirror on my wall: actually the tux does look pretty good. And together we do look like we might just fit in to any sort of upper-class do.

  “Sold. Who's ball is it?” I ask. Jacob and Terrell look at each other conspiratorially.