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Course Correction

A sample chapter from Divine Children by Lucas Kitchen

Captain Dorian Platt Jr.'s age-withered body slumped in the chair where he remained jacked into the neural navigation system. He was making routine course corrections when his heart stopped under the strain of old age. They would have replaced Captain Platt years ago with a younger starship pilot, but his generation did not have that luxury.

“Cardiac arrest,” a voice shouted with urgency. The control room erupted into chaos. Familiar hands ripped off leads and chords and pulled the captain’s body out of the chair, something they would never do in normal circumstances.

The aged body was splayed across the floor in front of the chair, uniform ripped open. His lengthy grey hair spread like spilled pasta as the flurry of activity swirled around him. It didn’t matter. No chest compressions could bring back what had already left the room and drifted off into the dark depths of endless night. Nonetheless, they tried to revive him for ten minutes.

“He’s gone,” a voice said from the circle of crew officers arrayed around the lifeless mass. It took time for the crew to slow. The gravity of the moment sank in gradually. A rare silence fell across the bridge while monitors glowed and control panels blinked with light.

“XO, I think you should look at this,” said a nasal voice from behind a terminal. While the rest of the command center had gathered to witness the passing of Platt, Jeremy Rider had stayed at his post. “Display monitor one.”

The large center monitor popped on, and the circle of crewmembers turned to see. Rider’s fingers tapped across his console as a 3D image took shape. The XO stepped forward, giving the screen his full attention.

“We have a problem. The captain didn’t finish the course corrections before...” Rider turned to look at the XO. He glanced at the body of the late captain and pointed awkwardly. “Before this happened. Rider turned back to his monitor. After hitting some more buttons, the 3D model plotted a course trajectory. The image pursued it.

“His death left us on a collision course with this planet.” A giant orb slid into the viewable field. The trajectory line of the ship ended in the massive sphere.

The XO studied the viewer for another moment before he spoke with a sense of recognition. “What planet is that?”

Now turning completely around in his chair, Rider looked at the XO again. “It’s Avail, Sir.”

The XO’s eyes widened slightly. “Well, that’s ironic, isn’t it?” he said as he watched the collision replay several times. He took a sharp breath as he came out of his trance. “Have the auto-navigation system reroute the—”

“I’ve already tried, sir; it’s not allowing me to change anything. The system is aware that there is no commanding officer now. It won’t make changes until someone takes the chair and jacks in.”

A round of whispering from the crew replaced the previous silence in the room. By habit, they slowly returned to their consoles and focused on their monitors. The XO’s voice came out more precise this time.

“Computer?” he said.

In response, a crisp, female voice radiated from every surface. “How may I help you, Chief Executive Officer Rollings?” Her words perfectly mimicked human speech.

“Is there any genetic match left who can jack into the neural navigation and embedded systems?”

“Yes. Huxley Bradford can take command of the neural navigation and embedded systems,” the computer said.

The XO huffed and turned his back on the screen. “Is there no one else?”

“All other capable officers are deceased.” The voice’s perfect reflection of human emotion seemed somehow flat.

“Also ironic. There has to be another way,” the XO said as he stroked his chin, the old habit revealing where a beard used to grow. He struck a nearby control panel in frustration. A high beep followed. “Seal the command deck. Notify security that no one is to get through that door, especially not Bradford.”