Countdown to Hell or Something
Beavis: Hey, Butt-Head. What is a black hole?
Butt-Head: So like, a black hole is like, this giant bunghole in outer space. It's like, it sucks up the whole universe, and then it's like, it grinds it up and sends it all to Hell or something.
— Beavis and Butt-Head, 20th Century Philosophers
“Warning: The Calixtus will cross the event horizon in 3 minutes.”
The voice of the ship’s computer was eerily calm considering that the Calixtus was being drawn toward the maw of a black hole. That was one of the problems with computers. They were great at calculating how long you had left to live, but they really sucked at getting sufficiently upset about it. The crew was beginning to panic, people were screaming, sobbing, or praying, and the computer just kept droning on emotionlessly at regular intervals about how long it would be until everyone was torn to microscopic shreds and swallowed up by one of the most unforgiving forces in the known universe.
Captain Gwydion Sebastian was not immune to the draw of mindless hysteria, given the current situation, but he knew he had to keep himself together. If he were to surrender to the urge to roll into a fetal position and start rocking back and forth, as he was sorely tempted to do, nobody was getting out of this alive. Of course, their chances of survival were already damned near zero, but Sebastian intended to at least die with a little dignity, not that there would be anyone left to know it had happened.
Sebastian pressed a button on his captain’s chair. Realizing his hands were shaking so badly that he’d just accidentally ordered a replicated mocha latte rather than open communications with engineering as he’d intended, he tapped another. Normally he’d consider it a happy accident, but this was no time for caffeine.
“Status report?” Nice, Sebastian thought. That didn’t sound at all like I’m seconds away from crapping my pants. Score one for Starfleet officer training.
The voice of Lieutenant Adeline Rowman replied over a speaker. “It’s not good, sir. Warp coils are offline. Impulse drives are offline. Shields are offline. Pretty much everything is offline, sir.”
“I’m aware of the situation, Lieutenant,” Sebastian shot back. “I was hoping you might have some good news.”
“Oh, I do,” Rowman replied, and Sebastian felt a small glimmer of hope. “Remember that strange canister we picked up on Regulus V?”
Sebastian remembered. It was a small, metallic object of unknown origin, at least several centuries old, which they had found half-buried in a hillside. The Science team had been poking at it for weeks trying to figure out what it was. Could the alien artifact somehow by the key to their survival? “Yes, I recall. Can you use it to get the drives running again?”
“Sir?” Rowman sounded puzzled.
“The ancient otherworldly technology,” Sebastian explained, trying not to sound exasperated. “Isn’t that just the sort of thing you engineering types combine with incomprehensible technobabble to save ships like ours from certain doom?”
“It’s a beer can, Captain." Sebastian heard a sound that that could be described as gulpy. "Still fizzy, though.”
Sebastian closed to comm channel.
“Warning: The Calixtus will cross the event horizon in 2 minutes.”
Again, the computer was calm and emotionless, without a shred of concern or empathy. Sebastian knew the computer would be watching the last moments of the Calixtus’ crew through the myriad of security cameras positioned throughout the ship, and he was starting to think she might be enjoying it. Something had struck him as not quite right about the computer ever since that time “It’s Raining Men” had started inexplicably playing on the ship’s intercom after that shuttle exploded during atmospheric entry over Icarus IX.
Sebastian turned to his Science Officer, Commander Hovik. With any luck, the Vulcan would be thinking clearly when Sebastian’s human mind could not, and Hovik’s flawless logic would find a way to save the ship and its crew.
“Hovik, is there any way we can escape this black hole?”, Sebastian asked. “Maybe you can reverse gravity somehow with the deflectors? Skirt the edge of the event horizon and slingshot us past the black hole? Surely, that logical Vulcan mind of yours must see some way out of this.”
Hovik scowled. “You’re a complete idiot, aren’t you, Captain? First off, the event horizon is the least of our worries right now. Before we hit that, we’ll run straight into the black hole’s accretion disk. Do you know what that is, Captain? No, wait, of course you don’t. Let me explain it in tiny little words your underdeveloped brain can understand.
“You know how a black hole sucks in all of the matter that comes near it, causing it to spiral toward the center like…” Hovik paused for a moment, trying to come up with an analogy Sebastian would undertstand, “…like a rubber ducky circling around the drain in a bubble bath your mommy filled up for you? Well, that rubber ducky is the accretion disk, except that it’s billions of rubber duckies and they’re spinning around at speeds you’d never comprehend, so they’re crashing into each other and heating up to the temperatures of tiny little suns. Essentially, we’re drifting into a cosmic food processor, and before we get anywhere near the event horizon we’re going to be burnt to a crisp and ground into interstellar pesto.
“Oh, and one other thing, Captain.” Hovik was shouting now, and pointing at his forehead. “See these? These are ridges, you over-promoted imbecile. I’m not a Vulcan. I’m a Romulan. Live short and suffer, you incompetent waste of bridge space!”
So much for calm Vulcan wisdom and rationality. Sebastian made a mental note to raid Hovik’s liquor cabinet if he survived this. Oh, and maybe look for a new Science Officer after getting his hands on the ale stash.
“Warning: The Calixtus will cross the event horizon in 1 minute.”
Silently, Sebastian began to pray. He prayed to God. He prayed to the Prophets. He prayed to Apollo, Q, and a couple of pah-wraiths. Hey, it never hurts to cover all your bases. He prayed to Zeus, Osiris, Andraste and Quetzalcoatl before working his way down the list to Thor, Loki, Iron Man and Captain America.
“Warning: The Calixtus will cross the event horizon in 30 seconds.”
Sebastian thought of all the things he’d never accomplished in his life. He wasn’t sure he’d ever truly been in love. He hadn’t ever managed to work off that winter weight and have a proper six-pack to show off when wearing his silver Speedo on Risa. He’d never slept with an Orion go-go boy. He’d never tasted a Kelpien’s threat ganglia.
“Warning: The Calixtus will cross the event horizon in 10 seconds. 9… 8… 7…“
Sebastian took one last look around the bridge. He would miss his valiant crew. Well, most of them. That Vulcan had turned out to be kind of a dick.
“6… 5… 4…”
Sebastian’s life was flashing before his eyes. He was back on the farm with his uncle and aunt as a young man. The twin suns overhead burned down on him mercilessly as he haggled with some small hooded creatures for a pair of droids to help out on the moisture farm. No, wait, that was someone else’s life flashing before his eyes. Don’t cross the streams, he reminded himself.
“3… 2… 1…”
Suddenly, the image on the viewscreen changed. Gone was the large, menacing black hole which had been growing ever-larger as they approached, and replacing it was a nearly blank screen showing the vast emptiness of space. On closer inspection, Sebastian could still see the black hole -- or, rather, see other things near where it was, since black holes are very hard to see in space, being black and all. It was now far off in the distance ahead of the Calixtus, judging from the swirl of detritus orbiting what appeared (or, rather, didn't appear... they're really quite black) to be a big ball of nothing. It was far enough away, in fact, that the ship seemed to be outside its gravitational pull.
Sebastian wasn't sure what had happened until he'd taken a moment to look around the bridge. Many of the crew seemed to be running in place, and occasionally teleporting forward for small distances as if they'd been transported. Hovik was repeatedly running face-first into a wall. Sebastian hoped it hurt. A lot.
That's when Sebastian finally understood. Just before crossing the event horizon, The Calixtus had clearly travelled into a lag anomaly. He'd experienced the phenomenon thousands of times before in his travels across the galaxy, and the associated effect physicists referred to as "rubber-banding," which could suddenly cause your ship to jump large distances instantaneously, typically in the direction you least wanted to go.
Lag anomalies were invisible and ships could travel into one at any time without warning. Typically, it happened at the most annoying time possible, such as when Sebastian was being attacked by a Klingon fleet or when he really had to pee and it was several light-years to the nearest space station. This time, however, the lag had saved his life.
#talesoutoftime #writingcontest
