Young Writers Society

Mulholland wandered down the long dark hallway. It was silent and very cold, its air chilling his lungs as he breathed. He did not want to be here on this ghost ship, this KMS Thermopylae. It was too lonely here, on this spaceship from nowhere.

“Mr. Mulholland, what are you doing?”

The astronaut jumped a moment before relaxing. “Don’t do that, Oni.”

“Do what, Mr. Mulholland?” the Thermopylae’s artificial intelligence asked.

“Startle me like that.”

“Apologies, Mr. Mulholland. I am simply not allowed to let crewmen wander around the ship. Though you are not crew, and these are not normal circumstances, my programming still compels me.”

Mulholland nodded. “I’m just trying to find the computer logs.”

“But Mr. Mulholland, you do not have the proper authorization to view them.”

“That’s not an issue. You’ll let me in.”

“But Mr. Mulholland, you do not-”

“The people who would have proper authorization haven’t even been born yet. This thing hasn’t even been thought up. Therefore, in light of those circumstances, I feel compelled to tell you to let me access the logs.”

There were a few moments of silence as the futuristic AI contemplated this. “Very well, Mr. Mulholland.”

There was a disorientating flash of bright light. Mulholland stumbled about for a moment. He shook his head, regained his footing, and took a look around. His surroundings were different. Rows and rows of computer banks stretched on down a hallway lit with red light.

“What was that?” Mulholland asked.

“I utilized the Thermopylae’s internal teleportation system to transport you to the ship’s computer banks,” Oni stated.

Internal teleportation system. What wonderful toys this ship had. Yet everything in it was in English. No record of it existed in any public or secret archive. It was a one of a kind fluke, arriving through a rip in space that crackled almost as if it bore lightning.

Mulholland, Creasey, and Werner had been sent up in the first shuttle that could be prepped. They had managed to find a docking bay in the mammoth ship, but had soon become separated after entering its labyrinth passageways. Mulholland had managed to activate Oni, the ship’s artificial intelligence. So far, Oni had been very helpful. It claimed that his activation date was the year 2752, and that the Thermopylae was a top of the line battleship. It had not divulged anything else, citing a possible fear of disrupting the time-space continuum, though it had said that it could not locate Creasey or Werner. It also did not know what had caused the Thermopylae to be flung so far back into the past, though it suspected a black ops project by a shadow organization in its future to be a probably factor.

Mulholland made his way over to the computer bank and sat down before one of the monitors. There was nothing on it, just the faint red glow.

“Oni, bring up the ship’s logs,” Mulholland said.

The AI quietly complied. Text began to appear on the screen. Mulholland skimmed it over, leaning forward intently. This was the first entry, detailing the Thermopylae’s maiden voyage. It had traveled to Tau Ceti IV, then to Alpha Centauri, then to a Lunar Dock, where it awaited new orders. The logs did not state that this was anything extraordinary.

“How many voyages did the Thermopylae make?” Mulholland asked.

“Seven in all. Four combat missions, two travelogues, and one relief effort. We were on the second travelogue at the last recorded entry. Would you like me to bring that up for you?”

“Yes, please.”

The last log entry scrolled onto the screen. It was nothing unusual as well. In fact, the Thermopylae had been in Earth orbit at the last recorded date. Mulholland suddenly had a thought, a horrible thought.

“Oni, search the ship’s database for any mention of the Thermopylae before 2752.”

“But, Mr. Mulholland, the ship did not exist at any point before that.”

“Except for this current moment in time. Search for it.”

Oni began to search. “Mr. Mulholland, I’m finding no mention of...”

The AI’s voice stopped. A human face appeared on the monitor in front of Mulholland.

“Hello. Call me Ishmael. I am from the year 2752, as you undoubtedly already know. This is a prerecorded message, programmed to appear whenever someone searched for mention of the Thermopylae before its activation date.

“No doubt you did so because you hoped to discern if what is happening here will affect the timeline. I can assure you it will not. Already our technology is erasing any mention of this incident from your records, and causing bouts of memory loss in all key personnel. This will not be remembered.

“Why is the Thermopylae here, you ask? And why are we keeping its presence a secret? In the lower decks, we have an infestation. Nanobots repurposed by a certain rogue geneticist whose name is unimportant to you. Anyone that strays into those decks will have their genetic structure horribly rewritten, and will be mutated.

“The infestation is spreading. We needed to destroy the Thermopylae. However, we also wished to keep it secret that we had lost a ship to this particular geneticist. So, in our time, the Thermopylae is being repaired in a dry dock that exists only in paperwork. In reality, it is to be destroyed.

“There is no way to destroy the Thermopylae in our time though, without it being noticed. She is simply too valuable a ship. So, we sent her back to your time. She was supposed to fly straight into the sun and not be detected at all. However, as this message is playing, that was not the case. But, since the message is playing, that also means that the demolition plan is proceeding anyway, as that particular flight plan was part of the message activation.

“I am sorry, whoever you are, for this tragedy. No doubt you are angry. This was not your mistake, not your fault. But, such things happen. If those nanobots were allowed to spread out of the ship, then the timeline would be irreversibly altered, and that cannot be allowed to happen. This is Admiral Ishmael, of the year 2752, leaving you with some last comfort.”

Mulholland’s eyes were wide. “Oni!” he called out. But the AI did not answer. Instead, a generic computer voice only stated, “Thirty seconds till impact with the solar atmosphere.”

Things were getting very hot. Mulholland bowed his head and began to pray as fast as he could. Something began to play over the loudspeakers.

“Amazing grace,

How sweet the sound.”