Containment Room 7

Containment Room 7

Bryan Hall

A

Grinning Skull Press

Publication

PO Box 67, Bridgewater, MA 02324

Containment Room 7 

Grinning Skull Press edition, Copyright © 2023 Bryan Hall

Containment Room 7 was originally published by Permuted Press, November 25, 2011, and is reprinted here with permission from the author.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. All characters depicted in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons—living or dead—is purely coincidental.

The Skull logo with stylized lettering was created for Grinning Skull Press by Dan Moran, http://dan-moran-art.com/.

Cover designed by Jeffrey Kosh, http://jeffreykosh.wix.com/jeffreykoshgraphics.

Published by Grinning Skull Press, P.O. Box 67, Bridgewater, MA 02324

ISBN-13: 978-1-947227-85-9 (paperback)

ISBN: 978-1-947227-86-6 (ebook)

Contents

DEDICATION

PART 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

PART 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

PART 3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

PART 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

PART 5

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DEDICATION

For my kids, Levin and Destiny. They're the best of me.

PART 1

Chapter 1

The retrieval room was electric with anticipation. Wilson could feel it as soon as he stepped through the door. It was divided in the center by a massive glass wall; a few control panels and computer screens were mounted on the side he was on. A dozen scientists and engineers bustled about the room, tweaking dials and huddling around the screens.

In the center of the room stood chief science officer Gruber and Captain Carlson, conferring with one another.

On the opposite side of the glass divide was a large room, the center of which held a series of control stations, some for manipulating the loading arms and entrance bays, others with various scanning tools. At the far end was another glass wall, this one looking out into space. Millions of stars and swirling gas pockets were visible in the distance, but directly in front of them was a blackness so profound that it seemed to dim the stars nearest to it: a black hole—the main objective of this particular DARC mission. Time travel, an energy source, faster space travel, even a weapon of mass destruction were things the physicists on the ship were hoping to develop from the research done on the dead star. Instead, they'd apparently discovered something else entirely.

Wilson joined the captain at the glass. Captain.

Big day, Wilson.

That's what I've heard.

What have you heard, exactly?

Just that we found something.

Gruber spoke up. Something that shouldn't be here.

Wilson glanced at the scientist. What do you mean?

We're orbiting around a black hole, four hundred miles from its gravitational pull.

I know that, Gruber. We have been for six months, last I checked.

And you know the strength of that gravitational pull?

It was in the security briefing before we left. If we get too close, we'll get trapped. It'll suck us into it.

Exactly. Nothing can resist such a massive force. The only reason we're as close as we are is because our research on the hole requires it.

And?

Two hours ago, our scanners picked up an object moving out of the black hole and settling into an orbit about six miles closer to it than we are.

Wilson blinked. What kind of object?

That's what we're going to find out, Carlson said with a smile.

It's small, Gruber added. Ten feet or so in diameter.

It just came out of the black hole?

That's how it appeared, Gruber said. It showed up on our scanners about two hundred miles from the hole's event horizon, moving opposite its pull. Our preliminary scans suggest it's organic in nature, but it's too soon to be sure. Hell, it doesn't even show up on half of our equipment.

So it could be—

That's why we called you up here, Wilson, the captain said. Protocol. Any chance of encountering alien life or objects requires Head of Security to be here.

Wilson nodded. So, what exactly do you expect me to do?

Just watch, Gruber said. It seems to be inanimate, so it's probably not a danger.

Wilson turned his attention to the front of the room, where a trio of engineers had entered in full protective suits, one of them wheeling a transport cart. It was a walk-behind forklift with a large, hermetically sealed box mounted atop it.

Who've we got working in there? Wilson asked.

Roger Han, Jim Sutter, Lorenzo Hill, Gruber answered. They're the three most experienced engineers we've got on board.

Wilson knew all three men—Jim Sutter more than the others. He was, in Wilson's opinion, one of the luckiest men on board DARC12. Most of the crew were single men and women; the long jaunts into deep space were enough to scare off companions. Finding a partner who could be assigned to the same DARC as you was the only way Wilson could see to build any kind of meaningful relationship. And Sutter had managed to do just that: find someone to love who was just as skilled at her job as he was at his. Someone who could join him on board the ship for years at a time and still keep each other happy in that close proximity. The way Wilson saw it, Jim Sutter was lucky to have found his wife, Elle. A trickle of envy crept into Wilson every time he talked with the engineer.

Six minutes to encounter, a scientist seated at a nearby computer called out.

Gruber joined the man at the computer screen, staring over his shoulder with wide eyes.

We've been on the ship for two years now, and I don't think I've ever seen him this happy, Wilson said.

Of course, he's happy, Carlson said. The first organic material ever found in space? Alien life? Earth's been waiting centuries for it, and we may be about to load it onto this ship. He'll be famous back on Earth. Hell, we all will.

And if it's not organic? If it's just a rock?

Then Doctor Gruber's going to be really disappointed.

Three minutes, Gruber shouted. The other men in the room grew quiet, a few murmurs rippling through them as they stared into the loading room.

Roger Han situated himself behind the arm controls, manipulating the levers with experience. Outside, the massive hydraulic arm swung into place, its four fingers widening in preparation.

Sutter and Han stood at adjacent terminals, their attention focused on the screens in front of them.

Two minutes, Gruber said.

The room had fallen silent.

A moment passed, and Gruber broke the silence. There it is. Prepare to adjust the ship's thrusters. We have to match its trajectory.

Sixty seconds to encounter. Gruber glanced to another computer terminal. Jenkins, do you have the speed locked down?

Decrease starboard thrust two hundred sixteen percent in thirty-eight seconds, Jenkins said.

To the right of the room, through the massive glass, Wilson saw it approaching. It was a tiny dot, growing larger by the second.

Twenty seconds. Fire thrusters.

There was a nearly imperceptible shift in the ship, so slight that if Wilson hadn't known it was coming, he wouldn't have noticed it. The research ship's massive size and sophisticated stabilizers made it feel as though they weren't even moving.

Five.

Outside, it looked as though the thing would slam into the side of the DARC.

Four.

It whizzed past the front of the ship, passing in front of the glass window a hundred yards in front of them.

Three.

The object seemed to slow as DARC12's speed matched its own.

Two.

Now it appeared to hover in front of the ship, nearly centered in the window.

One.

To Wilson, it looked like a tiny asteroid, nothing special. He glanced to Gruber, who stood unblinking, his mouth slightly agape. He looked like a man who'd just fallen in love.

Roger Han began to work the arm, swinging it outward and extending its length until the hand reached the object. He closed the steel fingers around it with finesse and began to haul it toward the ship, plucking it from space like an apple from a tree. Within minutes, he'd placed the thing onto an elevated platform inside the loading bay. It was a room with a door on either end, one leading into space, the other into the main area.

The outer door closed, and Sutter began to punch commands into his computer terminal. Inside the loading bay, a series of lights flashed as the object was scanned.

Gruber read aloud from the screen in front of him. Organic composition. Unknown genetic makeup.

So that thing's supposed to be an alien? Wilson asked.

Just because it's not the little green man you were expecting doesn't mean it isn't alive, Gruber snapped. The scans just mean that there's some organic matter in it. It could just be microbial life on the surface of the thing.

Sutter and Lorenzo steered the transport cart into the loading chamber, bringing it to a stop underneath the platform the thing was sitting on. They stood on opposite sides of the glass box and pulled two levers, opening the cart completely. With it in place, they moved away and pressed a switch. The platform lowered until the alien thing was seated on the cart, and then slid backward.

The two techs moved to close the containment box around the thing and stopped, heads cocked to one side as they gazed at it like dumbfounded puppies examining some new, wondrous discovery.

What the hell are they doing? Wilson asked.

They each reached out a hand and laid it on the thing, circling it and looking it up and down.

Gruber pressed the intercom switch and leaned into the microphone. Don't touch it, goddamn it! Just do your job.

The techs jerked, as if snapping out of a daze, and moved back to the cart, working the switches so that the hermetic case sealed itself around the thing.

They backed the cart out of the loading chamber and into the main room, bringing it close to the dividing glass where Wilson was standing. Wilson's stomach knotted as it approached him, and his heart began to quicken. The thing looked benign enough—a brownish-green, lumpy sphere about four or five feet in diameter. To one side of it, a thin, gray tube protruded, hanging lifeless off of the thing. It looked like an intestine.

Despite the innocuous appearance, it terrified Wilson. It filled him with dread for no reason he could think of.

Finally, Sutter and Lorenzo moved the thing toward the room's exit.

Take it to Bio-lab Five, Gruber said into the intercom. Do it quickly. I'll meet you there.

He turned to Carlson and Wilson and grinned. Smile, Wilson. You're a part of history.

Chapter 2

The doors to the lab slid open, startling Lisa Michaels. She stared as the engineers brought the discovery inside. She'd spent the past hour readying the workstations for the various tests and scans Gruber had planned and had scarcely taken the time to consider just what it was they would be working with.

The call from Gruber had her excited.

As a genetic biologist, the research she was on board to do had nothing to do with the black hole they were orbiting, and their proximity to it made her nervous. One miscalculation on the pilots' part and the ship could be sucked into the collapsing star.

But Gruber had stressed since leaving Earth just how important their discoveries could be. He'd even mentioned an odd radiation signature that suggested to some it could be a white hole, something that most thought impossible outside of mathematical equations.

Lisa doubted they'd find anything useful. She'd heard some of the lead physicists discussing it, and harnessing or controlling such a thing sounded far beyond the capabilities of mankind. To think that anything, especially a human, could dictate the laws of time and space seemed arrogant and misguided to her. That was the realm of gods that had been dying slowly since the discovery of science.

Then again, she wasn't a physicist. For all she knew, they could just fly into the damn thing while clicking their heels together, think about where they wanted to go, and be there a few seconds later. 

The research ships were mostly filled with physicists, astronomers, and other scientists who were primarily concerned with finding and studying black holes, outlying solar systems, and finding other planets possible for mining.

In addition to the astrophysicists, a few chemists and biologists were along for the ride, conducting various experiments that were banned on Earth. Cloning, genetic manipulation, hastening and altering the evolutionary process, reanimating dead tissue, and other things too controversial (and illegal) for the planet were fair game once they exited the orbital jurisdiction of Earth.

These projects were far more profitable for the company than the antimatter and black hole research Earth's general public believed were the primary purpose of the DARCs.

Aside from their normal responsibilities, every scientist, no matter what their field, was given a quick briefing on the possibility of encountering alien life. Biologists were given first priority for examining any creature they might encounter, even if said encounter was unlikely. 

The farther into space technology allowed humans to go, the more excited people grew over the possibility that alien life would be found. Lisa had even dreamed she would be lucky enough to be on a ship that found this life. After working her ass off and managing to get out of a Philadelphia ghetto, with no help from anyone but her aunt, she felt entitled to a stroke of good luck.

So, after all the dreams, hopes, and wishes of mankind encountering some other form of life, here it was.

Now, face to face with the thing, she was somewhat disappointed.

A big lump of space shit. That's what it looked like to her. As a biologist, she'd been hoping for something more…lifelike—not a miniature asteroid.

Containment Room Seven, she said to the engineer, gesturing to the large glass-walled room in the center of the lab.

They wheeled the thing by her, and as it passed, her breath caught in her chest. The tube, hidden from view when they'd brought it in, was visible. Her disappointment abated, and she crossed the deck for a closer look.

The tube pulsated. Once—just a faint murmur, like a heart beating its last time. She froze as a wave of excitement churned through her body.

Life.

As they situated the thing in the containment room, Gruber entered the lab, accompanied by the chief biology scientist, Dr. Coulet.

The two men walked straight to the room and watched as the engineers sealed the door, standing so close that their noses nearly touched the glass.

Thank you, Gruber said to the engineers. Jim, tell Elle I said hello, all right?

There was no response. The two suited men were rooted in place just outside the containment room door, staring at the object they'd just delivered.

Jim? Gruber said, louder this time. Lorenzo?

Finally, one of the men nodded. We'll leave you with it, then.

They backed away from the room, eyes fixed on its contents, until they reached the lab door. They paused for another moment, then opened the door and left. 

Without turning his attention from the thing, Gruber said, What do you think, Lisa?

She joined him and Coulet. It isn't what I was expecting.

It never is. What do you make of the tube on the side of it?

Nutrient intake, maybe. It could even be a cocoon, the tube bringing in air to whatever's inside. At any rate, it moved as they were bringing it in.

Gruber turned to her. What moved?

The tube.

Moved how? Coulet asked.

It flexed, just once. Like a heartbeat, almost.

Really? Gruber asked. You saw it?

She nodded.

They stared at the thing until Gruber said, Well, Rich, what do you think? Start with surface scans? Try to take some samples?

Coulet nodded. Makes the most sense to start there, I would say. Try and see what this thing's made of. Then we'll work our way to the tube.

Let's get going then.

Chapter 3

Wilson walked through the corridor of entertainment level two, trying to cast the thing they'd found from his mind.

When he'd taken the position on board DARC12, the government suits had warned him the prolonged isolation a deep-space mission brought with it could easily trigger a mental breakdown or deep depression

To combat the stresses of deep space, the ship was fully equipped with hundreds of options for recreation. Each person had private living quarters furnished with televisions, musical instruments, personal computers, and video games. On every floor of DARC12, there was at least one, sometimes two, decently sized recreation rooms for the scientists and crew members to use when they needed a break.

Aside from the individual rec rooms, three levels of the massive ship were filled with nothing but movie theaters, libraries, restaurants, rec rooms, a small four-lane bowling alley, gyms, pools, and even (after several months-long debates between the higher-ups and a strict four-drink-per-day maximum was established) a bar serviced by its own small brewery. The intent was to give the crew the feeling that they were living in a small town or community rather than stuck on a giant research vessel for several years.

Wilson walked into the bar and scanned it for Collette and Rodney. It was a shift-ending ritual to meet his two best security officers at the bar for a few beers before they each retired to their quarters.

The pair were at a table near the back wall, already well into their lagers. He navigated the small room and joined them.

At six-foot eleven inches and three hundred pounds of solid muscle, Rodney Smith held the distinction of being the largest man on board the DARC12 (and the largest Wilson had ever met). He looked up as Wilson approached and said, Hey, boss. His voice was stilted; he seemed distracted, lacking his usual happy-go-lucky attitude.

How are you guys? Wilson slid into an empty chair and motioned for the waitress.

Collette ignored his question. So, what is it?

What is what?

The thing they found. What did it look like? Was it alive?

The scans said it was organic. Didn't look alive to me.

So, what did it look like?

Looked like a goddamn rock to me, he muttered. The waitress came to the table, setting his beer in front of him and leaving them alone again.

He took up the beer, gulping down half the glass.

Damn, Wilson, Collette said. Something wrong?

He smiled. Just being around her made him feel somewhat better; looking at her washed the thoughts of the ship's discovery from his mind.

She was sexy and exotic-looking, with dark hair and light brown skin. And she took good care of herself; her body was as perfect as Wilson had ever seen.

He enjoyed her company, too. Despite coming from different backgrounds, they had similar outlooks on most things. She was good at her job, good enough to be the security office's second-in-charge. Colette was Wilson's idea of the perfect woman.

If it wasn't for the fact they worked together in the same department, he'd have made a move months ago. She'd even dropped a couple of offhanded comments that led him to believe she felt the same way. But he knew complicating a boss–subordinate relationship with sex was never a good idea, as much as his libido hated it. He'd seen it ruin too many professional partnerships to put his and Collette's friendship into the firing line.

But still… That body and its curves. Those pouting, full lips.

Boss? Rodney said, pulling Wilson's attention away from his daydreams.

I'm fine. What about you guys?

I'm good, Collette said. I'd be better if I could have been there to see that thing.

Trust me—you didn't miss anything.

If you say so.

Wilson turned to Rodney, who was staring into his beer with a deep frown etched on his face.

What's wrong?

Rodney looked up from his drink. Nothing. Just tired, I guess.

You sure?

Yeah. I think I'm gonna finish up this beer and hit the bed.

No bowling? You always bowl after your beers.

Not tonight. He dropped his gaze to his beer again. He looked almost ashamed.

There something you want to tell me?

The big man shook his head. He drained his glass and rose from the table. I'm just tired, boss.

Fair enough, then. Wilson watched as Rodney weaved through the tables and left the bar. He turned to Collette and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

She shrugged. He's been like that for the past hour or so. One minute he was fine, then he just clammed up.

You think something's wrong with him?

He says he's tired. I'm gonna take his word for it. If it was something else, I think he'd tell me. I'm like his sister.

Okay.

She finished her beer and motioned the waitress for another. You seem pretty cynical for a man who just experienced first contact with alien life.

It's overrated. Besides, I'm a cynical guy.

I know. Because of Earth.

"Because of the