Darwin

by Amanda Bridgeman

  “I’m done,” Carrie finally said, looking at the clean cupboards and mattress cover. She scrunched up the bloodied paper towels and dumped them in the small clinical waste bin in the corner of the room then removed her gloves. She then scrubbed her hands and arms. She looked around the room. “Is that it? Shall I remake the bed?”

  Doc glanced around. “It’s just the report work now. I’ll do the bed later.”

  Carrie nodded. “I guess I better get back then.”

  “Yeah,” Doc gave her a half smile. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “No worries,” she smiled gently back, “and don’t forget your coffee, Doc.”

  He glanced at the doorway to his office, where he’d left his ‘fuel’. “Ah yes,” he said, then returned his eyes to hers. He put on his best Australian accent, albeit softly. “No worries.”

  Carrie gave him a warm smile and left. As she walked down the corridor she thought about how Doc seemed to be handling things okay. It should’ve made her feel better, but it didn’t. Her chest hurt a little, and there was a strange empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  Smith was still dead.

  She felt her jaw tighten. Where was Grolsh? Where the hell were the survivors?

  *

  Harris eyed Bolkov intently, awaiting an answer.

  “Captain, I see four possible points of entry for hidden access.”

  “Where?” Harris moved to look over his shoulder at the floor plan superimposed over the basic hexagonal shape of the station that they had measured.

  “There’s gap here behind Sharley’s office.” Bolkov pointed with his thick, rough, fingers. “Also here, behind labs. One here by mess hall, and one by rec area.”

  Brown looked over his other shoulder. “Nah, the mess hall and the labs will be pipework space. The rec room space is probably air vents, as the main shaft is located here.” He pointed to an area close by.

  “Well, that leaves us with only one area then?” Harris arched his eyebrow at Brown.

  “It’s that easy?” Hunter queried skeptically.

  “Wait, what about this space here?” Packham said, pointing to a small gap near to where one of the emergency exit doors lead onto the dock.

  “That looks small,” Harris said.

  “Well, what if it’s not a stairwell, but a ladder?” Colt offered. “Manhole size?” “I guess secret rooms need their emergency exits, too?”

  “Hunter, bring up some camera footage of that area from when we first boarded,” Harris ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” Hunter started scanning over the footage.

  Harris looked back over at the plan. “What about these? Too small?” he asked Brown, pointing to some gaps behind the store and some of the other labs.”

  “Nah, I think that’s pipework. The store will be an air vent or air well. But we can check it out. Without the structural drawings, I’m just guessing here,” he shrugged.

  “Okay, got it,” Hunter announced.

  Everyone looked up at the screen and saw Harris’s monitor as they approached the emergency exit.

  “Alright, pause there,” Harris ordered. The image on the screen clearly showed the exit door and the wall beside it, which was jutting out a couple of foot.

  Harris looked over at Brown. “That wouldn’t be pipework behind there?”

  “Well, it could be,” he shrugged again, “but there’s no real reason for it to go there when it’s only corridor and dock. It’s worth a look.”

  “Good work.” Harris gave Packham and Colt a nod. “Alright, so our guess is that the main access is behind Sharley’s office, with another exit by the dock. Hunter, get me footage of when we cleared Sharley’s office. We need to figure out how to access that space.”

  *

  Carrie walked out to the firing range. She kept picturing Smith lying in the body bag, kept seeing Doc take off Smith’s shoes, kept seeing the blood. She felt strange. Numb. It had been Smith who’d ultimately saved her from Grolsh, yet he was the one who was now dead. How did that come to be?

  She picked up the laser pistol beside the range and fired. She barely aimed, she just shot. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, aimed again and fired. It felt somewhat therapeutic, as though she was breaking the ice shell of numbness around her with each shot. She ran over to the next range and snapped off a quick shot, she spun around and ran back to the first one and fired again. She walked a few paces backward, then swiftly stepped to the left and fired at that target, then she stepped to the right and fired at the other one.

  Then she heard a noise behind her.

  She spun around to the gym equipment and saw McKinley sitting there on a weight bench, sipping a cup of coffee, watching her. They stared at each other for a moment, before he put his cup down, stood, and strode in her direction. His cold stare and quick pace made her nervous. He looked as though he was charging straight for her, but as he reached her he skimmed past to the range console and brought up the targets on the screen. He turned and stared at her for the seconds it took to bring up the results. She stared back, trying to control her nerves, wondering what he was doing exactly.

  When the targets came up, he examined them carefully. All 1’s. He looked back at her curiously for a moment, then moved right up close, towering over her.

  “If you ever get the chance to get off this fuckin’ ship, you make damn sure you do that, out there!” he ordered in a low, tight voice.

  She stared into his piercing blue eyes. They didn’t seem quite so cold now. Instead, they burned with a fiery anger, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her.

  “I’d love to,” she told him firmly, although her throat was still tight.

  “Good,” he breathed, then turned to walk back to the gym and his coffee.

  “McKinley?” she called after him.

  He stopped and turned around.

  “I need you to officially issue me with my gun. I can’t shoot anyone without it.”

  He looked at her, nodded, then waved her to follow.

  *

  When they got to the weapons store, Colt, who’d joined them, looked around like a kid in a toy shop.

  “Which one can we have?” she asked eagerly.

  “On the Aurora you have standard issue,” McKinley said, walking over to the UNF pistols. “When you go off the ship, they get bigger.” He picked up a pistol and checked that it was loaded. He handed it to Colt, along with a box of clips, then did the same with Carrie. He turned, got one more set and handed it to her. “For Packham,” he said. “Now I’ve officially issued you with your gun. We’re done here.”

  McKinley headed back to his coffee, while Colt and Carrie headed back to the flight deck. As they entered, they saw the team watching an enhanced version of Harris’s headcam footage. It appeared to be Sharley’s office. Harris glanced over at them and then back at the screen. Carrie handed Packham her gun and clips. The sergeant checked the gun was loaded, then stood up, tucked the pistol down the back of her pants and left the clips on the console.

  “What about the picture frame?” Brown asked.

  “Perhaps underneath desk,” Bolkov offered.

  “Noticeboard,” Hunter suggested.

  “What are we looking for?” Colt asked.

  Packham leaned over and filled them in quietly, whilst Harris continued to stare at the screen.

  “We’re not going to know until we go back in there and try, captain!” Louis said impatiently.

  “Time is money, Louis,” Harris said, not taking his eyes off the screen. “We need to know what to try before we get there, in case we come under attack.”

  “What if the access requires some sort of security code?” Carrie asked.

  “We’ve got equipment for that,” Harris told her, eyes focused on the screen. “Smi— Brown … will get us in.”

  The room fell silent.

  *

  Harris walked into Doc’s office. The medic sat
at his desk in front of some e-files. He looked up at Harris, but nothing was said. Harris glanced into the hospital and saw that Smith’s body was gone.

  “I’ve just finished the report,” Doc told him. “You want to sign it off while you’re here?”

  Harris walked over and sat down at the desk. Doc handed him the e-file and he scanned it. His eyes jumped to the “Cause Of Death”. It read:

  Massive blood loss due to ruptured int. jugular vein. Cause of rupture unknown.

  He quickly scanned the rest of the report.

  “I’ve also done the reports for Welles, Carter and Louis,” Doc told him.

  “What was Louis’s injury?”

  “It certainly wasn’t a gun or a knife. He said Chet just ripped at him with his hands and teeth.”

  “His hands and teeth?”

  Doc nodded. “His wounds looked like an animal attack; teeth marks, scratches, bruising.”

  “And that’s what happened to Smith?” Harris furrowed his brow.

  “I guess so.” Doc sat back in his chair. “They appear to like going for the jugular … not unlike a lot of hunters in the animal kingdom.”

  “Do you think that’s possible?”

  Doc shrugged. “Given their strength? You’ve seen what desperate and psychotic people will do in battle situations, Saul. Anything goes.”

  “But Chet failed with Louis?”

  “Louis’s stronger than Smith. Maybe he just put up a better fight? Then again, Logan did seem a lot more aggressive than Chet.”

  “Yeah, or maybe Chet just hides his aggression better?” Harris said skeptically.

  Doc shrugged again and sat forward, leaning his elbows on the table. “Why didn’t Grolsh kill Welles? She’s weaker than Smith. It would’ve been easy for him.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s not as adept as the others. Maybe Smith coming along spooked him.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Doc said, shaking his head. “Smith was taken down in an instant. I think if Grolsh wanted to kill Welles, he would’ve done it. He very clearly choked her. There was no tearing at her neck, and in the end he let her go. I don’t think he was trying to kill her.”

  Harris shrugged. “I don’t know, Doc, but I think we’ve found out how to get to them.”

  “Yeah.”

  “We found two spots. One we think is a main entrance, the other a smaller, secondary route.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “We go, figure out how to get in, then we try and smoke them out.”

  “What if the missing crew are up there being held prisoner?”

  “Then they’re all incapacitated for a while, but they’ll live. We’ll have two teams. The main one on the entrance, and a smaller one on the secondary access route.” He looked at his watch. “It’s 00:16. Let’s go and end this shit.”

  *

  Carrie stared hard at the floor plan. If she ever got the chance to go on the Darwin, she wanted to know it like the back of her hand. She wanted to know every possible place someone could hide and attack from. Of course, the floor plan was only for the ground floor. What the second floor held was anybody’s guess.

  Harris, Doc and McKinley entered the flight deck.

  “Listen up, people. We’re going to do this, and we’re going to do it now. We’ll move out in two teams. Team one will focus on breaking through from Sharley’s office and that team will be myself, Doc, Brown and Louis. Team two will be at the secondary route and that team is McKinley, Carter, and Bulk? I’m calling you up!”

  Bolkov nodded. “Sir!”

  Carrie looked at Harris, who registered her look of disappointment.

  “Welles, you are injured.”

  “So are Carter and Louis, sir?”

  Harris shot her a stern look.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, looking him in the eye, controlling any emotion she felt. She glanced over at Doc, wondering whether he’d said anything to Harris. He looked back at her, but she couldn’t read his face. She glanced at McKinley too, but he, like Doc, was unreadable.

  “Let’s move out,” Harris yelled.

  She watched as they all left the flight deck. She didn’t say anything; didn’t complain or sigh. She was going to handle this differently. She moved to stand behind Hunter and Packham, who both glanced at her as she did. She avoided their eyes and stared hard at the screen as the headcams began to click on, one by one.

  She watched as the teams re-armed themselves with laser-fire rifles and bullasers, and headed for the exit.

  They did their two-by-two cross-cover as one group. Slowly and without incident, they reached Sharley’s office, then McKinley’s group broke off and continued on around to Section Three and the emergency exit. Carrie and the team on the flight deck watched the monitors carefully, but the Darwin was empty. Deathly quiet. Eerie.

  “Well, both groups have made their targets easy,” Hunter noted. “That’s either a good sign or a bad sign …”

  Carrie, Packham and Colt exchanged glances.

  Together, they watched both groups as they got to work trying to find a way to enter the hidden spaces. McKinley stood guard as Bolkov and Carter searched for theirs. In Harris’s team, Louis stood at the door while Harris, Doc and Brown tried to find a way into their space. Brown was inspecting the picture frame on the wall, Doc was feeling his way around the desk and Harris was running his hands along the noticeboard. Suddenly they heard a clicking noise.

  “I’ve got something,” Harris said quietly, and he began rotating the noticeboard around from a landscape to a portrait position. They heard another noise and the wall which Brown had been inspecting started to rise up. Doc, Brown and Harris stepped back and snapped up their guns.

  Suddenly a loud, high-pitched squeal pierced their ears. The comms went dead, and the power blacked out on the Aurora.

  “Fuck!” Hunter called out into the blackness.

  *

  Harris yelled in pain at the squealing in his ears. “Aargh, jeez!”

  He glanced around and saw the other men were holding their earpieces away too. As soon as the high-pitched squeal stopped, static filled their ears.

  “What the fuck was that?” Louis winced.

  “Flight deck, do you copy? Over.” Harris spoke into his headpiece as he put the earpiece back in. Static continued. He looked over at Doc.

  “Maybe it’s got something to do with the wall?” Doc suggested, eyeing it.

  Harris looked over to where the wall had risen. Behind it, the closed doors of an elevator.

  “Brown, get over here and help me open this fucker,” Harris ordered. “Doc, keep trying to raise the flight deck!”

  *

  Carrie, Hunter, Colt and Packham sat on the flight deck in darkness, until the emergency lighting slowly blinked on. At first it bathed them in a dim red hue, but it slowly blanched out into a bright white again.

  “Okay, where are the screens?” Hunter asked anxiously. “Where are our comms?”

  Packham’s hands flew around the console hitting buttons and flicking switches. “I’m not getting anything. It’s dead!”

  “Fuck, we’re blind here. We gotta get the comms up and we gotta get them up now,” Hunter yelled. “What else is down?”

  “I can’t re-connect to the external power source,” Packham told him. “We’re on the Aurora’s power cells right now.”

  “Colt, you know where the comms panel is, down below in the cargo hold?” Hunter called over his shoulder.

  “Yes, sir,” she answered.

  “Check it out! Welles go with her.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Carrie and Colt ran for the cargo hold. They knew the ship was locked down, but they moved swiftly, arms out in front with handguns ready, doing a cross-cover past each doorway. When they made it to the hold, Colt ran to a structure in the corner, swiped her pass and opened the glass paneling that covered a board of buttons, switches and cords. She st
arted running her fingers over every item, checking them and mumbling to herself, while Carrie kept her eye and gun on the door.

  “There’s nothing wrong here. It looks fine,” Colt said with a sense of urgency. “We better head back.”

  As they reached the top of the stairs, Colt stopped at the intercom and tested to see if it worked. It didn’t.

  “Shit! The entire system is down,” she said. “Even the internals.”

  They made their way back to the flight deck assuming the same cross-cover, Colt facing forward and Carrie watching behind them, gun in hand, heart racing. As they reached the flight deck, Hunter called out to them.

  “Talk to me, Colt!”

  “The panel’s. It’s not burned out and everything’s still connected.”

  “Fuck,” Hunter hissed, looking over the console again, thinking.

  Packham, Colt and Carrie eyed each other nervously in the silence. Hunter ran his hand over his mouth, his mind struggling to find an answer. He looked up to the ship’s dead security monitors and stared at them. After a moment, he seemed to surrender himself to a resolution, exhaling measuredly and standing up.

  “I gotta go out to the external power source and take a look,” he said. “I can’t leave the guys blind out there.”

  “But what if they did this?” Packham asked worriedly. “What if they’re out there? It could be a trap.”

  “I’ll cover you,” Carrie offered quickly, as though a knee-jerk reaction, her heart beginning to race even faster.

  Hunter looked over at her.

  “I’ll go, too,” Colt nodded.

  Hunter looked at Packham. “Lock the flight deck when we leave. Lock the ship down, too. I’ve got the access codes.”

  Hunter grabbed his gun from beside his chair and double-checked it was loaded. He turned to Carrie and Colt. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked firmly.

  “Yes, sir,” Carrie said with conviction.

  “Let’s get the comms back on,” Colt said, equally assured.

  He nodded, then started up the flight deck stairs.

  They stopped briefly at the weapons store to grab three bullaser vests, then continued on to the Aurora’s exit. As they reached it, Hunter stopped and turned around to them.