The Agathon: Reign of Arturo by Colin Weldon Page A

thinking about his daughter. He liked to picture her the way he envisioned her growing up. He had lived a life with her inside his head. They lived in a small cabin along the shores of a quiet lake on a planet made of green lush forests. They would spend their days fishing and building fires in the open wilderness. He would tell her stories of his great escape from the iron rule of an evil man and she would listen to him in awe. He would teach her about his travels and prepare her for the new world the best way he could. Their home would be made from trees that he had cut down and they would live the rest of their lives in peace. He basked in the warmth of her imaginary love and wondered what it felt like to be happy.
    A small blinking light on the corner of his flight console caught his attention. He snapped out of his daydream unwillingly, ignoring it at first, but then turned his head to look at the light. He stared at the blinking communications light then pressed the button underneath it, activating it.
    “This is The Unity,” he said.
    He was greeted with static. He frowned looking at the light and pressed the console again.
    “I repeat; this is The Unity. This is Aron Elstone. Go ahead,” he said again.
    Nothing. The crackle on the other end of the comms continued to echo around the cockpit. He decided that it must have been background radiation and disconnected the communications channel. The light blinked off. He sat back in his chair and looked out at the stars.
    He sipped his coffee and returned to the forest. He was just in time for dinner with Maya.
    The Agathon
    “It was definitely a human voice, sir. I wasn’t imagining it,” David Chavel said sitting at the navigational console. He had just arrived at his morning shift.
    “Play it again, David,” Barrington said from the captain’s chair.
    Chavel punched some commands into his console and the bridge went silent. There was a moment of static.
    “… Unity … Elstone ...” The voice from the static said.
    It was very faint, but definitely there. The communications channel went dead. Barrington looked at Chavel.
    “Probably picking up internal channels, Lieutenant?” he said straightening his back.
    Chavel shook his head.
    “No, sir, this originated in deep space. I am triangulating it now,” he said.
    Barrington fell silent.
    “Shit, sorry. I lost it, sir,” Chavel said.
    Boyett looked over at Chavel and frowned. He raised his hand apologetically at his momentary break in bridge formality. Barrington saw her give him a little smile and let it go. Boyett turned her head back to her flight controls. The two stars grew larger in the viewers overhead. Barrington glanced around at Jerome Young who was seated at one of the diagnostic consoles.
    “Well Jerome, anything you can do to clean up that signal?” Barrington asked. Young had spent most of his life on the Martian moon Phobos analysing the Signal Maker’s transmission being relayed to Earth from the great metallic monolith structure that had been discovered there. He was scratching his prosthetic leg when Barrington had turned to ask him.
    “I’ll get right on it, John. The lieutenant is correct though, it seemed to originate in deep space,” he said, “if Tyrell is not available, I could use Carrie up here.”
    Barrington nodded and tapped his comm link.
    “Carrie Barrington to the bridge,” he said.
    “On my way,” she replied.
    “Anyone know what Unity or Elstone means?” Barrington said out loud to the rest of the bridge crew.
    Silence followed. He turned back in his chair and scratched his chin. Looking at Young scratch his leg had suddenly caused an itch to form under his empty eye socket. He rubbed it gently and looked up at the twin stars.
    “Position, Charly?” he said to Boyett, “have we got telemetry on any of those planets yet?”
    “Actually, yes, sir, we do,” she said turning to Chavel.
    He was still looking at his communications readings from the