Darwin Read online

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  About Aurora: Darwin

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  The Call, the Run, and the Brief

  New Recruits

  The Aurora

  The Crew

  Learning to Fly

  For and Against

  Red Flags

  Records and Poker

  War Games

  Final Countdown

  Docking

  The Bio Cell

  Quarantine

  Logs

  Cargo Ships

  Bloods

  Juice

  Oxygen

  The Vanishing

  The Key to the Door

  Shards of Glass

  Revelation

  Control

  Darkness and Light

  Survival of the Fittest

  Morphine

  Sparkie

  Officer Dale

  Waiting to Exhale

  The Verdict

  The Visit

  The Vicar

  Forward Motion

  Epilogue

  Also by Amanda Bridgeman

  Acknowledgements

  About Amanda Bridgeman

  Copyright

  About Aurora: Darwin

  Two very different people with one common goal, survival.

  A distress signal on the edge of inhabited space. Two very different soldiers with one common goal – survival.

  When a distress signal is received from a black-ops space station on the edge of inhabited space, Captain Saul Harris of the UNF Aurora is called in from leave to respond. But the mission is not what it seems - three new recruits have been added to the Aurora crew.

  For Corporal Carrie Welles, one of the Aurora's new recruits, her first mission in space seems like a dream come true. Determined to achieve the success of her father before her, and suddenly thrust into a terrifying mission, she must work with her new captain and the strained Aurora crew to make it home alive.

  When the Aurora arrives at the station Harris and Welles soon find themselves caught up in a desperate fight for survival. Station Darwin is not what they expected. The lights are off, but somebody is home…

  Epigraph

  Life is like a game of cards. The hand that is dealt you represents determinism; the way you play it is free will …

  Jawaharlal Nehru (1889–1964)

  Prologue

  Easy money. Yeah, right! Lars had always been one for taking the easy road, but right now this didn’t seem so easy. Right now, his bitch of a mother’s words were ringing in his ears: “If it sounds too good to be true, Lars, then it is! There’s no such thing as an easy ride! You work long and hard, and then you die! That’s just the way it is in this stinking life!” Well, he’d taken the easy road, alright. Simple work on a cargo ship seemed honest enough. It looked good to his parole officer, and being stuck on a ship traveling around space for months on end was a good way of keeping you out of trouble. Except the gunrunning, that is.

  His ship’s captain, Quint, had been up front about it and the extra cash to look the other way didn’t bother Lars at all. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that was why Quint hired him in the first place. Quint didn’t care about the long rap sheet against his name for burglary, assault, you name it. Quint, it turned out, was an ex-con too, although Lars guessed the “ex” part wasn’t quite true. But to the authorities Quint looked clean, running a simple cargo operation between the Moon, the outstations, and Mars. So yeah, Lars took the job, took the money and looked the other way. Easy money. That inescapable vice to a con like him. Like a bottle of booze to an alcoholic, or a hand job in a back alley to a sex addict. Easy fuckin’ money, alright! And it was about to get him killed.

  He heard footsteps approaching and held his breath. He wasn’t sure whether he was the last one left alive. He hadn’t seen anyone since it went down, but what went down exactly, he didn’t know. One moment they were in the space station’s mess hall eating dinner with the crew, the next …? He remembered the lights in the room went out. He remembered commotion, fighting, screaming, the smell of blood … He didn’t stick around to notice anything else. Instead, instinct led him away, running back blindly toward the dock and their cargo ship. He had to get off that station and fast! Except the doors to the dock were locked; access overridden. He was trapped.

  The screaming had ceased now. So quick? The lights were still out and panic shot through him like a spear. He clawed his way blindly to the cargo office, just inside the dock entrance, where he’d signed the paperwork when they’d first arrived. He scuttled underneath the desk, smacking his head as he did, hissing quietly and curling up as tightly as his body would allow. Just hide and ride it out! he told himself. Hide and ride it out! Just like you’ve done before from the cops, it’s no different … or was it? At least the cops were restrained by law. They couldn’t just kill you without justifiable cause …

  Lars heard the footsteps stop at the doorway to the cargo office. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that somehow it would help make him more invisible. Heart racing, palms sweating, his throat had turned dry. The silence sat; he heard nothing. He slowly opened his eyes, wanting desperately to see what he could not hear. Then suddenly, he felt hot breath against his face.

  He jumped a mile, smacking his head again, as the lights suddenly came on in the room. But he didn’t have long to eye his attacker. He merely saw frenzied amber eyes, flashes of ginger hair, and gridiron shoulders that yanked him out from under the desk, lifted him and threw him against the wall like a rag doll. The beast (it couldn’t possibly be human, surely?) then thrust itself upon him. His neck and throat were swiftly opened up in excruciating pain as whatever it was clawed viciously at him. He was sure he’d heard the flesh tearing. Then there was the blood, pouring down his neck, amidst the grunts and growls of some kind of wild animal. Tearing, shredding. The pain. The blood. Pools of it. Drowning.

  Easy money? Yeah, right!

  1

  The Call, the Run, and the Brief

  Captain Saul Harris was standing in the middle of a vast field on Earth. It was not a field he remembered. It was dry and grassy and seemed to roll on forever over low undulating hills to the horizon. The sun was beating down on him, and he was so content in the warmth that he closed his eyes and stretched out his arms to capture it all upon his dark brown skin. He stood inhaling the fresh breeze and reveled in the feeling it brought his lungs. Earth air: there was nothing like it.

  As he stood enjoying the sensation, he heard a faint sound in the distance. He opened his eyes and listened. He heard it again and realized it was someone calling his name.

  “Saul …” It was a woman, and the voice was vaguely familiar. He turned around to find the source, but there was no-one there, just an empty, dry, grassy field. She called again, much louder this time, and he suddenly recognized the voice as that of his late grandma Sibbie.

  “Saul?” Her voice seemed tight.

  His eyes scanned the field for her, but she was nowhere to be found. He suddenly noticed the wind pick up, and the clouds began to swiftly overtake the sky as though in fast forward. Sibbie called his name again, and he began turning around in circles, searching for her.

  “Where are you?” he called.

  “I’m here!” she said.

  He turned around once more and suddenly saw her standing there, just meters from him, with his great-grandma Etta by her side. They were dressed in their Sunday best: slender Sibbie in a lavender skirt and blouse, and plump Etta in a floral dress and pearls. He noticed Sibbie was clutching a phone to her bony chest.

  “Something’s wrong!” she said. Her dark brown eyes held a look of warning.
Heart picking up pace, he began to approach her, and just as he was about to speak, he awoke abruptly to the sound of his phone ringing.

  “Ugh …” he muttered, opening his eyes. He was in his bed, in his apartment in Fort Centralis, and it was still dark. He took a second to get his bearings, then fumbled his hand over to his bedside table and hit the speaker button on his phone.

  He answered it croakily. “Yeah …”

  “Captain Harris, this is Colonel Isaack. I understand you’re on leave, but something’s come up and we need you to report to Command at 0600.”

  “0600? What’s the problem?” he managed with a dry mouth, still half asleep.

  “0600, captain. You will be fully briefed then.”

  He let out a sleepy sigh, “Yes, sir.” With that the phone went dead and he hit the speaker off.

  “Lights!” he called out into the darkness. The lighting in the room blinked on dimly, then slowly but surely brightened to allow his eyes to adjust to the light. He rolled over and stretched out his long body, then squinted through the light at the time on his watch. 04:49.

  “Ugh …” he groaned again.

  As a soldier he was used to rising at this time, but when he was on leave his body always managed to switch from soldier to civilian mode with no trouble at all. He’d been on leave now for only five days and couldn’t think why, in peacetime, he was being called up at this godforsaken hour with a whole three weeks of leave left.

  He threw the sheets back, swung his feet out onto the floor, and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands over his face and yawning. He suddenly pictured the faces of his crew and wondered whether any had gotten themselves into trouble on their leave? He pulled himself off the bed and strode naked to the bathroom. As he entered, the sensor lights came on automatically, and he walked over to the basin and washed his face.

  He looked in the mirror at his tired brown eyes, the whites all pink, and remembered the whisky and the jazz club from the night before. The headache seemed to set in as he thought about it. He grabbed some painkillers from the bench and swallowed them with a scoop of water from the tap, then turned and eyed his shower longingly.

  As he stood there under the warm water, he swore he could feel every single droplet crashing against his dark brown skin, as though it was slowly bringing him back to life, piece by piece. He washed off the dried sweat from his dancing the previous night, and smiled to himself as he remembered the woman he’d met. She was cute, she was sassy, and boy could she move. They never really spoke much to each other, instead letting their bodies do the talking on the dance floor. He did get her number though, and a wink and a smile as she walked away. She never gave him her name. She simply wrote down “Jazz Club Woman”, so he’d remember. He’d call her tonight, he thought. Then suddenly dropped his smile. That is, if he was still on Earth tonight.

  Years of service had taught him that there was nothing like a good breakfast to start the day. However, time was not permitting this morning. It would take him thirty minutes to cross the island and reach Command and he knew he couldn’t risk being late. Besides, he was eager to know the reason for the early morning call from Colonel Isaack. Something was obviously going down, and it made him very curious indeed.

  *

  Corporal Carrie Welles was halfway through her morning run along the south-west coast of the island that was Fort Centralis. It was her ritual, the equivalent of someone else’s morning cup of coffee. It brought her to life, got her blood pumping and gave her time to clear her mind, which kept her brain sharp throughout the day. Fitness was important to her. She knew that it had played a part in her success as a soldier to date. Although she’d been a late entrant into the forces, she’d easily made up for lost time: still relatively young at 28, she’d already been given more opportunities in her career than her training buddies, despite her physique, which was not that of a typical soldier. She was quite petite—only 5' 5" in height—but her fellow recruits only teased her about that for the first week or so. When they finally got on the shooting range, she very quickly earned their respect. She was faster and more accurate than anyone she knew. She had a natural talent, but couldn’t deny that the training her father had given her had helped to hone this skill. He’d made her an exceptional sharpshooter, and that had been her ticket to better things.

  As she rounded the bend near the southernmost point of the island, she checked her watch. There was no time for taking it easy today. She could not afford to be late for her meeting at Command. She’d received their call only yesterday evening, notifying her that she was being called up for duty and to report to Command at 0700. She didn’t know where she would be going or even what division she was being called up for, although she had recently applied for Space Duty. It was the thought of this that made her tingle with anticipation.

  Curiosity had been eating away at her for weeks now. It was generally an invitation-only division, and there had been a lengthy screening process to be eligible for admission. She had endured a whole range of medical checks and skills testing to prove her worth and it had all been under a veil of classified secrecy. She was quietly confident that she would be accepted, but was nervous by the long wait for answers. This was something she wanted more than anything, and she couldn’t help but let herself wonder whether today would be the day she would finally became a Space Duty recruit.

  As the thought sent a spike of adrenaline through her, she checked her watch again. 05:15. Better head back … She wanted plenty of time to get ready, plenty of time to make herself look soldier-smart. This job was hers, she could feel it.

  *

  Harris arrived at Command at 0550. He had his identification at the ready and presented it to one of the heavily-armed guards at the entrance, who eyed it carefully and then nodded him to pass. The rank of captain in the UNF Space Division was held in much higher esteem than that of Earth-based military outfits. Although the SD had grown since its inception, it had started small with a limited amount of soldiers and a reduced ranking system. And so, in the SD, a captain was known as the captain of a spaceship, and it was held in much higher regard.

  He entered the building and made his way to the screening area, as he’d done countless times before. He recognized the graying man at the security checkpoint and nodded a “hello” to him. The guard eyed him back and tightened his lips in acknowledgment. Harris placed his briefcase and hat on the table, and the guard placed them on the conveyor belt to pass through a screening device. As his items disappeared from sight, the guard waved him through to the main screening zone, which consisted of “the Tube”; a cylindrical machine that would scan and x-ray his entire body.

  The Tube was a phenomenal piece of technology. It ran scanners over the subject several times, reading the various layers of the human body, including an iris scan to confirm the subject’s identity. It not only registered the usual metal objects or handmade weapons, but it also picked up chemicals and detected excessive heat or biofluids linked with viruses or any other biological weapons. The machine was impenetrable, and if one tried to get anything past it, the alarms would sound, the machine would lock in place, and a gas would be released to subdue the offender. Next thing they’d know, they’d be waking up inside a cell with a real bad headache and a potential death sentence hanging over their head.

  The Tube was empty, so Harris stepped in and the doors closed behind him. He stood on the metal plate and looked straight ahead at the iris scanner and the second set of doors that would release him if he was cleared. It began to scan him. He took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. He hated this machine. He knew it served a purpose, but hated the fact that nothing was private anymore. He knew that in a room, off to the side, sat some medical personnel checking out every inch of his body, and he didn’t like that someone else could know more about him than he did.

  After the green laser iris scan was completed, he closed his eyes and started thinking about why they’d called him in. He’d be
en working under Isaack’s command for about eighteen months now, and although Isaack was old school, Harris respected him. He knew they wouldn’t just pull him in like this without good reason.

  He recalled the dream he’d had that morning of his grandma Sibbie and great-grandma Etta. He was intrigued by its strangeness, wondering if the whiskey from the night before had something to do with it. He thought it odd that he would all of a sudden dream of them like that, without any provocation. As he thought about it, he couldn’t actually remember ever having dreamed of them before. Every now and then he would recall memories from his childhood—their watchful eyes, their soft smiles—but they were fleeting moments that he never thought much of. He’d been fond of them, but he’d been nowhere near as close to them as his sister Holly had been. He could just picture Holly’s face now if he told her that he’d actually dreamed of them. The analysis that would ensue! Harris smirked at the thought.

  He heard the high-pitched beep and the light overhead turned green. The scan was complete. The second set of doors opened up and he stepped out. He collected his briefcase and hat, then approached the reception desk, where a uniformed woman awaited him with a smile.

  “Good morning, sir. Welcome to the United National Forces. How may I help you?” Her big blue eyes and bright red lips were a welcoming sight for his tired eyes.

  “Captain Harris to see Colonel Isaack, Space Force Division. He’s expecting me,” he smiled.

  “Certainly, sir,” she said, smiling in return. She turned slightly and began to announce his arrival into her headpiece.

  Harris glanced around at the various soldiers and administration staff walking around. Everyone seemed normal, no-one was running around like a major drama was unfolding somewhere.

  “Certainly, sir,” she continued, before ending the communication and looking back at Harris. “Colonel Isaack will see you on the sixth floor, room 105.” She hit a few keys on her console, then swiped a security pass over a scanner. “This pass will give you access to that particular floor and that particular room only, sir,” she said, looking at him quite seductively through her eyelashes. She flicked her long, straight brown hair over her shoulder as she slid the security pass across the counter toward him. “Have a nice day, sir.”