Previously on Lost Ship. We're in the sweet Milky Way,
are we? What just happened, Turov?
I want answers. According to a NAV system we are
currently flying through in the Roman of Galaxy.
We are under attack. Red alert, We are under attack.
Enemy opening fire. We're hit Shields down to 30%.
Captain, we can't take much more of this.
Your pit barbarian will kill us all.
We must retreat. Incoming call strain to main
screen. Your sacrifice has.
Been accepted. These.
Skulls will make. Fine nests.
From a brood, Yes indeed, very. Fine now.
Leave this sector and pray you do not stumble across the mall
gruff again. Morning Morning security
situation in refugee quarters. Camera feeds streaming to main
viewport. Oh, they do not look happy,
Captain. No, they do not.
To the bridge mites. Your top priority right now is
getting us home. How do we rejoin the fleet?
Sir, we can't. We are.
Stuck here forever. You are listening to Lost Ship,
a weekly podcast written and published by Daniel Aronson,
performed and produced by Bobby Garrison, Episode 3 Voices in
the Dark. Good evening, all civilians are
to return to their quarters. Good evening all civilians are
to return to their cold. Good heads wrought in the
speaker. Stand back, everyone back.
Oh, look at him, he's a big one. Must be 7 feet tall.
Get out of our way friend. We just want to see.
The Captain. The bridge is forbidden to
civilians. The HSS Odysseus is a ship of
the line, a military vessel. You are cargo.
What military mate? In case you missed it, Earth is
gone. Hell, the entire Galaxy is
millions of miles away. Yeah, we part of no more fleet,
no more government. All the old hierarchies are
dead. That's right, just what he said
about hierarchies. They're gone, mate, and we wants
to have words with your captain. Yeah, such as?
Why did he throw out all those cantaloupes into space?
Perfectly good food. The captain is responsible for
whatever happens on this ship, like stumbling into a portal and
ending up in the Andromeda Galaxy alone with barely any
food. Certainly not now.
But with our cantaloupes gone. So make way big fella, come
mites to the bridge. Stamp down Bob, you will not
enter the bridge. Who are you to tell us where we
can and can't go? I am Lieutenant Commander Brutus
Ledbetter, warlord of Ganymede, defeater of the Mind, troll of
Trust, traitor and security officer of the HSS Odysseus.
By the honor of my clan and the sanctity of my rank, I will
stand in your. Way.
Look around. There's only one of you and
hundreds of us, and there ain't no way, Mike, that you can take
a soul. Huh.
I could take you all, but don't worry, I won't harm you.
You are under my protection. You are refugees of Earth, the
planet that fell. As I defend my captain, I will
also defend your lives. But I cannot let you onto the
bridge. Ledbetter, It's all right.
Let one of them onto the bridge. Just one.
But Captain, I am strong enough to hold them all back.
I am ready to defend you, but I will also obey you.
Mob. Choose one and one alone.
Choose your greatest warrior. He will face me in battle for
the right to step onto the bridge.
Ledbetter just let one through. There's no need for a battle.
But I love battle, Sir. Very well mob.
Choose a weakling to sneak around me like a coward and
speak on your behalf. Ozzy, you should be the one to
go. All right, I will.
I'll go have words with this Captain Jack Thorn.
Well, would you look at that? The bridge fiant say you got us
refugees crammed into the hole like cargo.
Hell, that's what your own security officer called us.
Cargo. Well, you lot live up here,
living it up in luxury. You got carpeting, nice
computers, even hot coffee. Would you believe that down in
cargo we barely got enough water and up here they're drinking
coffee? Ask them if they don't mow
cantaloupes. I'm sorry.
You find the accommodations aboard substandard.
Well, Mr. This ain't no hotel. This is a military vessel in the
ragtag fleet of Admiral Benarie. That hierarchy still stands.
No matter where we are, no matter what happened to Earth,
we're still a ship of the line. You won't find comfort here.
But I promise you, as an officer of the Ragtag fleet, my duty is
to protect you, to shelter you, and to bring you home alive.
What home might Earth is gone but the ragtag.
Fleet remains A million of us humans still live, flying in
1000 starships across the Milky Way.
It might take a while, but we will find a way to rejoin them.
Know if you keep throwing out our food?
Yeah, I get that. But here's the deal.
We encountered an alien life form an Andromeda space, a very,
very hungry Caterpillar. And mark my words, that
Caterpillar was going to eat something.
Us or cantaloupes. We chose the cantaloupes.
Well, I chose battle, but I was overruled.
Are you sure you don't have any cantaloupes left?
Not even a slice. I understand, Captain.
I'm angry, but I understand. What's your name?
My name's Ollie Osmond. My mates call me Ozzy.
You can call me Mr. Osmond. All right, Mr. Osmond.
Now listen to me. From now on, I want you here on
the bridge, representing the interests of the civilians
aboard. Your people deserve
representation here too. Would that be acceptable or do
you want to cram 500 people onto the bridge while I fly my ship
from the hold, Sir? He will attempt to overthrow
you. I don't think so, Ledbetter.
Mr. Osmond, you are aware if you show any sign of mutiny,
Ledbetter here will crush your head like a grape.
Yeah, you could probably do that.
All right, I accept. Put her there, Captain.
You've got a firm grip, Mr. Osmond.
Blacksmith for over 20 years, Captain.
Makes for strong hands. Strong hands.
Not strong enough to save my Bella.
When those when those hydrant squids landed on Earth, they got
her. They got my girl, my daughter.
She was only 10 years old. My hands weren't strong enough
then. I'm sorry to hear that, I truly
am. None of us were strong enough,
not even the Admiral. All right, Captain, I'll talk to
my men. I'll get everyone back to
quarters. Oh, and sorry about shooting out
your speaker. I'll overlook it, but if there's
any more trouble from your lot, I will send Leadbetter down
there and I'll be removing his muzzle.
Understood, Mr. Oh. I wouldn't expect any less,
Captain. Oh, and now that I got a spot on
the bridge, I'll be watching you closely.
I. Wouldn't expect anything less,
Mr. Osmond. Oh, and Captain call me Ozzy,
that's what all my mates call me.
There must be way. There must be.
Oh, you Mayo. I've been over the myth 100
times. He gave me order, Lord Mila.
Captain's order. Find out how a wormhole
propelled our Starship to the Andorama, the Galaxy.
Find every formula that describes the chaotic bending of
space-time. Every number, every decimal
point, the captain wants me to describe the event with the same
precision that cracked the atom and unveiled the stars.
But I can't do it. Load Mila.
I can't find an answer. I am no Mendeleev, no Coralev.
I'm just Pavel Turov, that's all.
The myth. The myth is beyond me.
You always say that, my dear. You are Doctor Pavel Turov,
inventor of Turov Equation, an esteemed scientist, and yet you
always say the math. The math.
I can't do it. I can't do it.
I can't, my darling. There's always been curses,
scientist. I can envision things, envision
them in my mind. Look over there in corner of
room, you see marriage bed. I see atoms.
I see trillions and trillions of atoms dancing together, weaving
in the wrapping around each other, forming structures of
elegant beauty. Log out the porthole, you all
see stars. I see endless waves of photons
forming dizzying patterns, the forces of fusion smashing atoms
together, and the power of gravity.
I am not some girl who gapes at the stars.
I understand these concepts. I too can imagine the atoms and
the electromagnetic waves. The difference is I can
sometimes tone it out. I can ignore the quantum world
and live in the world of people. You can't.
And you. Can do the math, my darling.
That I can't do that. I need my brilliant Ludmila for.
Sometimes I think that's why you married mathematician, so I can
help you with your homework. It's certainly not the cooking.
Watch it or I will forget to carry one and your formula will
blow you up. Move over, make room.
Let me see your paper some. Look here these formulas.
The wormhole was collapsing when we flew through it.
The collapse seems entirely random.
If I knew how it crumbled, if I could write out the precise
formula, I could reverse it. I could figure out how to send
this home. But all I see is randomness.
This spike of numbers here what's?
This It's the moment the hydrants bombarded the wormhole.
The energy surged, the porthole twisted and turned.
We were caught inside for long moments, but no matter how I
look at it, I see randomness, random movements, random
collapse. How can I reverse what is random
you add? Randomness to the equation.
Show me there like that you add a coin toss random.
Let me take closer look. I see I Ludmila you made
mistake. I did not.
Ludmila, my darling, I can't give this to my captain.
You must if you want to get home.
This is how we open portal back to Milky.
Way. But Ludmila, this navigational
algorithm. Yes, half the time such a portal
would work. It would bring us home to
exactly where and when we left, but there's a 50% chance that
instead the portal will become a black hole and devour us.
Randomness. It's the only way, Pavel.
The only way. To go home, you must toss the
coin. Hoyo Mayo.
Schrodinger, stop squirming. Schrodinger, I'm trying to groom
you. Stop squirming you useless
feline and fine return your scratch post looking like a
disheveled beast. I can't believe I'm talking to a
cat. I must be going crazy on the
ship. I shouldn't even be here.
I should be in the halls of the afterlife with my bride.
I should be a hero. I shouldn't be here.
Oh, I'm sorry. Schrodinger, come back.
I've lost my temper. Schrodinger.
One moment. Captain Thorne.
I apologize for the state of my quarters.
I I have no excuse. Doing a little midnight
redecorating Ledbetter. I'm sorry to say you've been
doing a terrible job. That coffee table completely
smashed, that sofa overturned. Need some help.
Captain, I broke them. I'm a man of Guinea meat, Sir.
We have short tempers. Sometimes we must smash
furniture so that we do not smash skulls.
Anyways, I'm sorry that I woke you.
I was already awake. I couldn't sleep either.
Mind if I come in? Come in Sir, I'll pull the sofa
back upright. But better I didn't only come
because of the noise. You've been losing your cool
lately. First on the bridge you were
snapping a tour of, then you called the refugees cargo and
tried to fight them, and now you trashed your room.
I apologize, Sir. I will hand in my resignation
first thing in the morning. I.
Don't want your resignation. You're my friend, a good friend.
We fought together on the line against the Hydriens.
I'm worried about you though, Lead.
I want you to get better. Don't worry Captain, I'll be
ready for battle anytime, any place.
I'm ready to fight. That I never doubt.
I'm not worried about your battle skills.
I know you're good at your job. I fought at your side for five
years. Brutus Ledbetter, I've never
known you to fail a brother in arms, but I've never known you
to lose your cool like this either.
So I'm worried about you, about your heart.
I'm not just your captain, I'm also your friend.
And if you'd like to talk, I'm here.
My people do not talk about their problems.
I am a man of Danny Mead. You are a man of Earth.
There's some things I can't tell you.
Oh, never mind all that. What can't you tell me,
Ledbetter, That you're ashamed because your fellow gannies died
in battle and you survived? I don't know that you still
mourn, Darsaig. You're still scared.
Are those the secrets a man of Gannemeede can't spill?
Well, I know those things already.
And I know them because I feel those same things.
I'm ashamed. I'm mourning.
I'm scared. But Sir, you are the captain,
our leader. Ganymede.
If you had confessed such a thing, I would be required to
challenge you to a duel to kill and usurp you.
Well, it's a good thing we're millions of light years away
from Ganymede, because I wouldn't stand a chance against
you, my friend. Listen, lead, all I'm saying is
I know it hurts and I'm here for you, man.
Captain, thank you. I am honored.
I know that you lost people, too.
I know that your wife and son are back home.
I'm here for you as well. And you're right, Sir.
About what? You wouldn't stand a chance.
God, I don't think I'll sleep a wink tonight.
Lead. And by the looks of it, you
won't either. For starters, you don't have
much of a bed left. Well, during the Cold War, we
spent many nights sleeping on the ground.
Yeah, me too. Hey, do you remember that time
we got short leave on Mars? What was that bar called?
The one near Gale Crater where those old Curiosity Rovers used
to land. The crater's edge.
Yeah, that's the one. I'd like to figure out how they
made that drink, the red one with the golden flakes.
When we find a new planet, I might retire, open a little bar
of my own. And.
Explosion in ship core. What happened?
Computer. Computer talk to me.
Hull breach in stern. Hull breach in stern.
Air leak detected. Go to red alert.
We're under attack. The Caterpillar is back.
No. No, there are no other ships
nearby. We would know.
The saboteur then, the one who sabotaged the wormhole and
brought us here. So he is real.
I'm not even sure if there is a saboteur, but we're going to get
to the bottom of this. Air leak detected.
Come with me, lead to the stern.
We got to stop that leak or this is going to be a short
adventure. Heart will find who did this and
crush their bones. Red alert red Alert red Alert
red Alert red. Alert.
You have been listening to Lost Ship, a weekly podcast.
This has been episode 3 Voices in the Dark, written and
published by Daniel Aronson, performed and produced by Bobby
Garrison. Please give a like or a thumbs
up to this episode and follow or subscribe to the channel Sounds
for this episode done by Epidemic Sounds and tonight's
music brought to you by Howard Harper Barnes, Amber Glo,
Christopher Moe Diddlesfin and Philip Ayers.
Please come back next week for another episode.
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