Overrun: Project Hideaway (8 page)

Despite his moral ambivalence,
there was something else about Barnes that bothered Parker considerably more.

The more time they spent
together, both as they prepared for the mission and after they had already been
sent up, Parker noticed there were a series of serious debilitating personality
flaws at work in Barnes psyche. Not enough to scrap him and the intellect he
offered to the mission, but enough for Parker to see why he was denied full
command of the ship guarding the future of the world they left behind.

Barnes was a virtual thinking
machine.

After taking the laborious
hundreds of required aptitude and psychological predisposition tests, it was
discovered that Barnes had post-doctorate skill levels and knowledge in
mathematics, engineering, and machinery. In fact, Parker had heard his
intelligence was almost immeasurable.

He was a fucking genius.

A genius and ungodly efficient.
His mind worked like a computer. Once presented with a scenario, a set of
surrounding variables, and an identified task at hand, like hitting the “enter”
button on the keyboard Barnes could instantly process the situation and offer
the solution.

Barnes’ mind alone was the
equivalent of the twenty technicians that could have been sent up in the
Hideaway, eating food, using oxygen, and depleting other resources necessary to
operate the ship equipment. Barnes was all that was needed to replace them all.
If the world as it was known suddenly came to an end, he was the one those in
the scientific community wanted to safeguard the ship.

His brain processes, however,
were to the point where they were too fast. Too proficient. Almost pushing past
the limits of what the human body is equipped to handle.

Once his brain had thoroughly
processed a problem or function, often within seconds, like a hard-to-please
bored child it actively sought out and physically needed something else to do.

And this is when his brain would
cease to function as a scientific godsend and start to become something else.

Without something to occupy its
attention, his brain would begin to turn inward and focus on itself. It would
delve into normal human brain activities like basic wants, needs, insecurities,
common forms of acceptable depressive feelings, and fear. His mind would then
begin feeding on these processes and feelings with the same rapid-fire rate.
With nothing else to concentrate on, personal thoughts and emotions were
dwelled upon and poured through repeatedly.

This usually led to heightened
states of irritation, paranoia, and numerous compulsive tendencies.

The final result was a general
all around edginess, and to say the least, a personal disposition that was
difficult to withstand at best. He had a noticeable lack of loyalties to
schools of thought or objects of patriotic appeal. His mind wasn’t disciplined
enough to focus on anything that required extended concentration or drawn-out
emotional thought.

And sometimes it would get away
from him. Especially during times like when they came out of hypersleep. When
your mind was nearly blank, and like the ship, took awhile to completely fire
back up.

These were the times that the
paranoia and compulsiveness often grew. His mind was on a constant search for
an outlet for its continuous energy surge. When ideas or thoughts were
exhausted, it often looked inward for gratification and release.

Like a crumpled piece of paper
suddenly lit on fire, it would collapse and begin to consume itself from
within.

Parker had seen it many times in
their preparations for the mission. Sometimes a jolt was needed to bring him
back down. To force control. To rein in his great mind and focus it again on
what was needed to be done.

This was what necessitated
Parker’s presence on the ship. He was there to safeguard and control the
actions of Barnes’ mind. No matter what a scientific and technical asset Barnes
was to the Hideaway mission, Parker was there to protect Barnes and the
Hideaway from Barnes himself.

“So, how long was it this time?”
Barnes asked starting to relax his disposition slightly. He made a few more
grotesque sounding inhales to clear the remaining hibernation fluid still
blocking his sinuses. A blood bubble pulsed twice on his left nostril and
finally disappeared. “I don’t even keep track anymore. A month here. Two there.
Sometimes three. This time around, how long were we down?”

Continuing to scroll through the
ship readouts on his control screen, Parker didn’t answer him right away.
Something on his panels had caught his eye. Something that didn’t seem quite
right. While Barnes watched him in silence, Parker moved faster on the keyboard
digging deeper into the ship’s logs and self-system checks recorded during the
time they were in the tubes.

“What the hell, Jed,” Barnes
said to him softly. “What’s going on over there?”

Still Parker didn’t answer him.
He could feel the lines furrowing across his forehead and the blood draining
from his face.

Energy expenditures. Life
support system durations. Amount of fuel used on the ship. All the readings
were off. All indicated extreme overuse for only a two month down cycle.

"Seriously, man,"
Barnes said again moving closer to watch him. “What the hell….?”

“Nothing…..nothing,” Parker said
softly without looking up and continuing to work on the consoles. “It’s
nothing. I don’t know the duration offhand.”

Barnes settled back into his
seat and rubbed his hand through his hair which was still thick with dried
hibernation fluid.

“Goddamn,” he swore softly with
a disgusted look on his face. He reached to the instrument panel to his right
away from Parker and wiped his hand across the console. “Whole fucking process
is just disgusting.”

He glanced over again at Parker,
who still did not answer him or look up.

"So, how long do you think,
Captain Jed? It seriously fucking feels like it’s been fucking forever."

Barnes grabbed his puke tube and
pressed one of his nostrils into the mask. Making another disgusting noise, he
blew forcefully still trying to dislodge and expel the contents from his
sinuses.

“It’s probably been closer to
three,” Barnes said from inside the mask. “Three and a half months max.”

"Barnes, I don't
know," Parker finally answered and released himself from his command
chair. His body floated up towards the top of the small cabin. Before Barnes
could complain that his ass was in his face, Parker pushed off from his seat
towards the rear of the cockpit and the entranceway to the rest of the ship.

"What?” Barnes asked
incredulously pulling the mask from his face. “What the hell do you mean you
don't know, Jed?! It should be right there."

“It is, but isn’t,” Parker said
reaching back to pull open the door. “We should’ve only been down for two
months. But the goddamn ship readings don’t match. Right now, I really don’t
know.”

Barnes’ eyes were now wide open
and fully awake. He straightened in his seat and began to jab at his own
consoles in front and around him.

"Holy, shit, Jed. How can
you not fucking know, Jed?” Barnes asked with a borderline edge to his tone.
"You're the mission administrator in charge of all that shit. What the
hell is going on?"

"Relax, already, will ya
Barnes?” Parker snapped with a curt confidence he for some reason did not
really feel. “I'm going to check the main network. Chances are we've just been
down long enough that the computers reset and dumped the accessible data. I'm
just going to get on the mainframe and download it all back.”

"Dumped the accessible
data? Are you kidding, Jed?” Barnes’ expression and his tone developed even
more of a raw edge. “It's only supposed to dump that data every six months. You
think we've been out here for six months? They wouldn't let us stay down for
more than six months. That's too long. No wonder it was so fucking hard to come
out of it. Do you think we've been down for six months?"

"Knock it off, Barnes. I'll
check the mainframe, and when I get back up here, we’ll reestablish contact
with the dome."

Parker hit the release on the
door, and when it snapped up, he pushed his way away from the cockpit and down
the passage to the rest of the ship.

"I'll be right back,"
Parker called back to his copilot. Before completely exiting the cockpit, he
saw Barnes turn around as if to answer him. He paused for a second, and then
did not speak. Still fighting the weightlessness in the ship, he remained
strapped down in his seat.

Parker was glad to leave him for
the moment and head deeper into the ship.

It was now only a matter of
time.

While he was gone checking the
main data ports at the back of the ship, Barnes would begin to wade through the
individual system files to figure out himself their exact position in time.

Rather than sit and wait for
Barnes to process the figures, Parker was opting to go to the back and confirm
on his own what he already knew. It would give him some time away from Barnes,
time necessary to compose and ready himself for what was sure to come.

Barnes would know the truth soon
enough. It would be better for the both of them if he allowed him to discover
it on his own.

It took
Parker about five minutes to make his way back into the systems room which
contained the ship’s network infrastructure. By the time he hovered over it and
began to monitor its readings, it had already completely rebooted itself to
full ship capacity. It was about an hour-long process that began the moment
their hibernations were terminated and life support systems to the ship were
completely brought back online.

Using both arms to pull himself
along a wall to the left side of the room, he made his way to the main system
terminal. Floating with his chest to the floor and his arms stretched out, he
settled in front of the three main monitor screens and began to tap at its
keyboard.

He scrolled quickly through the
main ship log and the scheduled system checks during the time they had been
down. It took less than two minutes to confirm what he already knew to be true.

Not looking forward to returning
and discussing his findings with Barnes, Parker took his time at the rear of
the ship. He activated several additional ship systems from the mainframe
rather than in the cramped confines of the cockpit. The ship hummed even more
to life around him. Bright light stabbed out into the dark corridors, and the
steady hum of the gravity generators pulsed faintly all around.

He held onto the side of a
console and waited for the air to release him and gently lower him down to the
ground. Parker walked to the center of the room and allowing his limbs to
adjust again to the weight of his body.

When he was finally ready to
experience what ultimately lay in store, he left the systems room and made his
way back through the tunnels to the front of the ship.

As he neared the cockpit
entranceway, he could see Barnes sitting quietly still strapped into his
command seat. He stared straight ahead through the main window into the
blackness of space.

But Parker knew that right now,
even though his body didn’t reflect it, there was far more than he could ever
dream now occurring at a rapid-fire rate behind his copilot’s eyes. His mind
was now like a bomb arming itself and readying to explode.

Parker moved to the doorway and
prepared himself to deliver the news that would most likely set it off.

Barnes glanced back at him
briefly when Parker reentered the small command room.

Without speaking, Parker slid
into his chair next to him.

Barnes’ face was white. And his
breathing came slowly.

"What’s the news?"
Barnes asked not looking directly at him. His eyes centered weakly at the
controls across his lap.

Parker didn't answer right away.
He inhaled deeply and allowed his mind to wander briefly outside the cockpit
window towards the dark blackness of the moon looming ahead.

"Oh, my god, Jed, what’s
the fucking news?!" Barnes screamed.

"You know it is as well as
I do,” Parker answered him softly without looking around. “The main data ports
confirm it…..how long we've been down."

Barnes let out an anxious breath
and sucked it back it in through a contorted scary grin. He settled back in his
seat and fidgeted nervously. He leaned his head back and breathed in using
frequent shallow gasps.

"I even crosschecked our
data counters with the separated system database on the Beam Cannon Hardware.”

"And?" Barnes asked
pressing his back further into his seat.

"At
least fifty-four, maybe fifty-five,” Parker spoke evenly. “It’s even feasible
we’ve been up here in hypersleep for more than sixty years. Without really doing
a complete record analysis, that’s my best guess."

Parker turned to face Barnes,
who looked like he had just been clubbed in the face by a metal pipe. He waited
several long moments to speak again. The sound of the small blower pumping
fresh air into the cabin seemed like it was screaming through the silence.

"That can't be right, Jed.”

“It’s right, Barnes,” Parker
responded quietly. “The system up here reset itself and dumped more than a
hundred times.”

“I don’t believe it,” Barnes’s
voice shook. His eyes were wide, and air rushed back from his lungs in short
near hysterical gulps. “Why would they do that? Oh, my God! Why would this have
been allowed to happen?”

“You know why, Major,” Parker
now allowed himself to speak more sternly. “We have to consider the possibility
that the reason we were kept in hibernation is of utmost global importance.
It’s even feasible that there might not be anyone even left alive down there
with the knowledge or ability to wake this ship up.”

"Holy, shittin’ fuck,
Jed?!" Barnes' eyes darted frantically around. “Then how the hell are we
up now?”