by J. N. Chaney
“Right,” said Karin, focusing her attention entirely on the screen. She brought it back to the previous location, stopping on a single, large box. “Here we go.”
The box switched from blue to green as she selected it, bringing the overhead lights on in an instant. Freddie and Abigail flinched at the sudden change, with Abby going for her weapon, but then stopping when she saw there was no threat.
The metal grate beneath us began to vibrate as the other internal systems came online. “It’s working!” exclaimed Karin, a wide smile across her face.
“Great job,” I told her. “Let’s just hope this thing doesn’t blow itself up before we can celebrate.”
“You think it’ll do that?” asked Freddie.
“Scans show the drone is coming online,” informed Athena. “Karin, please open communications and grant my access.”
“Of course,” said Karin, focusing on the screen in front of her. “This should only take me a second or two.”
With the lights finally active, I could see the interior much more clearly. Wires hung from the upper walls, with several tiles fallen to the floor nearby, suggesting that this ship had taken a beating when it fell. Looking at it now, it seemed a mess. I was beginning to wonder if it might rip apart if we tried to activate those thrusters. Might be better for Athena to tow it in, I thought.
The screen blinked red, catching my attention, and a message appeared in the upper corner.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“It’s some kind of message,” said Karin, trying to read it. “‘Emergency system activated. Sending alert to Abaddon Station.’”
Another box popped up. “‘Alert received,’” read Karin.
“Received by who?” I asked.
Karin stared at the screen for longer than I felt comfortable. “It looks like it was sent to something called Hephaestus.”
I looked at Abigail. “Do you know what that is?”
She shook her head.
“Athena?” I called. “You wanna shed some light on this?”
No answer.
“Athena,” I repeated. “Are you receiving—”
The drone shook, nearly sending all of us to the floor. “Thrusters are coming online!” shouted Karin, clutching the sides of the console, trying to stabilize herself.
“Turn it off!” I barked.
She placed her hand back on the activation pad, trying to get out of the menu, but nothing was happening. “I can’t stop it!”
Six
“What do we do?!” cried Freddie.
“Stay calm, for starters!” I snapped, then looked at Karin. “What can you do? Give me something.”
“I, uh,” she muttered, trying to keep her palm on the pad, but the motion of the ship made it difficult. “Hold on, please.”
“Focus,” I told her. “Wherever we go, Titan can follow. They’re probably already after us. Just try to do this and keep your head on straight. You get what I’m saying?”
She hesitated, but slowly nodded. “Give me a moment,” she said, proceeding through the menu system.
“Freddie,” I said, looking at him. “Do you still have the blueprints on your visor?”
He nodded.
“I need you to comb through them and look for a way off this thing. There’s gotta be an escape hatch somewhere.”
“The escape hatch probably has a manual override,” said Abigail.
“Probably,” I said in agreement. “But we need options. Find another way out if you can.”
“I’m on it, Captain,” said Freddie. He turned around, holding onto the wall, presumably to focus on the job.
“I’m locked out of flight control,” said Karin. “There’s no way to bypass it. The system is locked down.”
“Can you at least see where we’re headed?” asked Abigail.
Karin’s eyes widened. “Maybe! Hold on, please.” She went quiet for a few seconds, sorting through several menus and screens I had no hope of reading. “Here!” she finally exclaimed, pulling up what appeared to be a chart of this system. “I can’t find the destination, but it has to be a—”
“Slip tunnel,” I finished.
She nodded. “We haven’t formed one yet.”
“Wonder why,” I muttered.
Karin looked over the screen again. “It looks like the ship is conserving its power. That might be why.”
“If that’s true, there must already be a slip tunnel on the edge of this system,” said Abigail.
“Which means we don’t have a lot of time before we’re stuck in slipspace, riding a pile of junk that may or may not hold together,” I said.
Freddie turned back around. “I found something!”
“Another way out?” asked Abigail.
“Down one of the other corridors,” he said, pointing toward the hall. “It’s not far, just around the corner. It’s a manual maintenance hatch.”
I touched Karin’s shoulder, pulling her attention from the screen. “Time to go.”
“Right,” she said, removing her hand from the pad, causing the screen to power off.
“Freddie, you lead the way,” I ordered. “We’ll be right behind you.”
We raced out of the room and back into the cramped corridor. We made it past the collapsed beam in half the time, reaching the fork in the hall in only a few minutes.
I could sense the increased vibrations beneath my feet, but said nothing of it. I could see by the look on the others’ faces that they felt it, too. We all knew well what precious time we had.
The turn in the corridor brought us to a wider section, surrounded by a mess of cords and broken metal. The consoles here had taken the crash much harder than the previous section of the ship. If this was any indication on what lay ahead, we might have more trouble than we’d anticipated.
“How much further, Freddie?” I asked, carefully stepping over some shards of debris. It wouldn’t do us well to rip our suits in this environment. My visor still showed a complete lack of atmosphere.
“Right there!” he called. “It’s the next room!”
The ship shook, right as I cleared the metal. “Watch yourselves!”
Abigail tried to grab the wall, but missed and hooked some hanging wires. She slid down, barely holding on, just above the debris. Karin moved to help her, finally offering a hand. Abby took it, stabilizing herself. She placed her back against the wall and eased her way beside the debris.
“Are you okay?” asked Freddie.
She took a gasp and nodded.
I felt my chest relax. That was a little too close, I thought, looking at her from across the room.
She stared back at me, breathing heavily. I could see by the way she was carrying herself that she was dazed, even though she’d never admit it. “Let’s go,” she said, her eyes still on me.
I decided not to press her about it. She’d only deny it if something was wrong. I motioned to Freddie. “After you.”
Freddie stiffened at the sound of his name, then moved into the next corridor. “This way,” he called, and the rest of us quickly followed.
The path led us directly to the so-called exit, although it wasn’t exactly what I’d expected.
There was a hatch, like Freddie had said, but it wasn’t much to speak of. Just a crawlspace, heading into the wall, roughly half-a-meter wide. “What the hell is this, Fred?!” I asked.
“It’s the exit,” he answered.
“You expect us to fit in there with these suits on?” asked Abigail.
“The blueprints didn’t say how big it was,” he said.
I bent next to the hatch, looking for a lever, but there wasn’t one. “How do we even open this?”
“Here!” said Karin, who was already removing the lid of a nearby compartment. She reached inside and turned something. “We had these back home. Watch!”
The hatch popped open right away.
“Not bad,” I said, reaching for the bottom of the door, then lifting it the rest of the way.
Once I had it, I took a step back to examine our so-called escape route.
“I can fit,” observed Karin.
“We can all fit,” said Abigail. “The problem is the suit. It might rip inside that crawlspace. It’s tight in there.”
“It’s either that or we blast the airlock at the entrance,” I said.
“An explosion is the last thing we want,” said Abby.
“Right,” said Karin.
“I’ll take the rear, then,” I said, getting to my feet and stepping clear of the hatch. “You three take the lead.”
“I’d argue, but we don’t have the time,” said Abigail.
“Smart,” I said, giving her a wry smile. “Now, get going. We’re running out of time.”
She nodded, placing her hand on the edge of the hatch, and finally eased her way inside.
* * *
The crawlspace was smaller than I expected, but not so much that we couldn’t fit. I was the biggest of us, which only caused me to lag behind the others as we went.
“How much further?” I asked, mostly to Freddie.
“We’re almost there,” he told me. “It looks like the outer hatch isn’t far from here.”
“I can’t believe the design of this drone,” muttered Karin.
“It wasn’t built with people in mind. They had to conserve space,” said Abigail.
“Priorities,” I said. “They had to fill every centimeter of this thing with weapons.”
“Seems like your kind of people,” said Abby.
“Might be,” I said, jokingly.
“The hatch is just ahead,” said Freddie, right when we were nearing the end of a long stretch of space, just as the little tunnel veered right. “Take this turn and we’ll be nearly there.”
“About time,” I said.
“Hold on,” said Abby, stopping ahead of us. “My leg is stuck.”
“What do you mean?” asked Karin, who was right behind her.
I couldn’t see much from where I was, but Abby’s breathing told me she was struggling to move. “Just one moment,” she said, straining to pull herself free.
Karin was looking over her leg, trying to help. “Your suit is caught,” she told her. “I can’t see where.”
“Hold on, I think I have it,” said Abby, fidgeting with her leg, finally jerking it back and away from the wall.
“Wait!” said Karin, a second too late to stop her.
A spray of oxygen shot out from Abigail’s suit. Karin struggled to wrap her hands around the tear, but it was no good. The air just kept coming.
“Shit!” shouted Abby. “Shit, shit, shit!”
“Does anyone have the sealer?” asked Freddie, frantically searching his leg pocket. “I can’t find it!”
I felt for mine, finding it in a few seconds. “Here!” I shouted, grabbing Freddie’s leg. He took the tube from me and tried to pass it forward. Karin was panicking, though, and trying to help Abigail. “Karin, take the damned sealer!” I snapped, grabbing her attention.
The sound of her name seemed to do the trick. “R-Right!” she answered, looking back at Freddie, who handed her the sealer. She brought it back up to Abby’s leg. “How do I use this thing?”
“The red button near the end,” I explained.
“Hurry!” pleaded Abigail as the oxygen continued to spray out of her suit.
I watched Karin struggle to apply the seal. Even from my position, I could see her whole body shaking, the tension of the moment weighing on her. “Just take your time,” I told her. “You go too fast, you’ll mess it up.”
She nodded, not saying anything, but I could hear her dry lips smacking as she nervously began applying the seal. The spray of oxygen slowly thinned as Karin did her work, closing the break a little at a time. “Almost done,” she said, much calmer than before.
“What’s your suit say?” asked Freddie. “Has it stopped leaking?”
She was quiet for a second, and we all seemed to freeze before she spoke. “It says it’s at 42%,” said Abigail.
I heard Karin exhale. “Gods.”
“Wait,” muttered Abby.
“Something else wrong?” I asked.
“No…no, it’s nothing,” she said. “Let’s keep going. We’re almost there.”
I started to ask if she was sure, but before I could say anything else, we were moving again.
Abigail stopped a few minutes later, having found the second hatch. I couldn’t see much from the back, except for a dimly glowing light. “What do you have?” I asked.
“There’s an access pad,” she answered.
“Touch it and see if you can open that thing.”
She did, and the light changed to green a few seconds later. She took the handle and turned, cracking the hatch. “The airlock is inside,” said Freddie.
We crawled through the door, one at a time, piling into the little room. It was cramped, so much that we were practically on top of each other. I reached over and shut the hatch, making sure it was sealed, then turned around and searched for the controls to open the final airlock door.
When I had it, I shot a quick glance to Abigail. She looked off, like her head was elsewhere. “Are we ready?” I asked, mostly to her.
She looked up and nodded, although there was some hesitation. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but decided it must be nerves. We were, after all, about to jettison ourselves into the dead of space.
Out of an ancient, moving combat drone, of all things. Why shouldn’t she be a little nervous right about now?
I placed my palm on the device and waited for my tattoos to react. When they did, I sent a mental command to the ship, telling it to open the airlock. Instantly, the system reacted, sliding the airlock door open.
Everyone held on to the walls, readying themselves to launch out of the ship. “We’re coming up on the slip gap point,” I said. “Time to get off this pile of junk!”
Karin nodded, pulling herself along the wall, toward the exit. She peered outside, but there was nothing to see. Nothing but the darkness and the distant, unmoving stars. “Ready,” she finally said. “I’ll see you all soon.”
We watched her leap out of the opening, flying far from the ship.
“Freddie, you’re up!” I barked.
“On it,” he said, scurrying to the same spot Karin had been when she left. He placed one foot on the edge of the airlock and swallowed. “Here goes.”
He broke away from the ship, leaving Abigail and I to follow.
The two of us took positions next to the opening. I looked at her, still seeing the concern on her face. “What is it?” I finally asked.
“Nothing,” she said, unconvincingly.
“Bullshit,” I answered. “What’s wrong? I’m not stupid. I know there’s something going with—”
I looked down, finally noticing a strange distortion in her leg, near the spot where the tear had been. It was compressed, like a deflated balloon. She must have noticed the look on my face, because that was the moment she chose to speak up. “I’m still losing oxygen. It’s down to 13%.”
My eyes shot straight to hers. “What the hell, Abby.”
“If I said anything, we would’ve wasted time looking for the leak, and I couldn’t find it.”
I rushed my hands over her thigh, searching desperately for the tear. It was there somewhere, but too small to find.
A light flashed against the hull of the ship, filling the airlock with a green hue. The tunnel was forming, right ahead of us. We didn’t have much time.
“Don’t worry about me,” said Abigail. “We have to go.”
“Not yet, godsdammit!” I snapped, grabbing her leg with both my hands, just in case she tried to make the leap on her own.
I found the first seal in seconds, near the ankle. Karin had done a fine job with it, and I couldn’t see any more air coming out. I followed the suit to her thigh, looking for another break.
Nothing yet.
No, wait, I thought, spotting a
compressed line in the material. There, beneath the flap on the other side, just under the knee pad.
I pulled out the tube from before, hoping it still had some seal left in it, and began searching with my finger for the tear.
“What are you doing?” asked Abigail, her hand already grasping the edge of the door. “We don’t have time for this! We have to go!”
“Not until we fix this!” I barked, cramming the tip of the sealer inside the crevice beneath her knee pad. I pressed the button, holding it for as long as the container would let me, until it was totally out of juice.
I took the sealer out when it was done and tossed it behind me, then bent forward to look inside, searching for any sign of the leak. I couldn’t find it, though. “What’s your oxygen at?” I asked, looking up at Abby.
“Four percent,” she told me.
The ship began to shake as we approached the slip tunnel entrance. We were out of time. “That’ll have to do!” I said, taking her by the hand. “Jump with me!”
She nodded, grabbing the side of the hatch again, ready to go.
I leaned out of the airlock, looking to our left, toward the oncoming rip in space. “Now!” I shouted.
I felt her squeeze my hand with all her strength, and together we made the leap.
* * *
Abby and I floated together, still holding one another. Thanks to the momentum of the ship, we were still moving toward the tunnel, but it would disappear before we reached it, so long as the vessel entered it.
In fact, the ship was so far ahead of us now, continuing its acceleration, that I’d already lost sight of it. That meant I could focus my attention on what actually mattered right now: keeping Abigail alive.
“Titan!” I shouted, darting my eyes around, looking between stars. “Athena, do you hear me?”
“I think we’re too far,” said Abby.
I gripped her hand as we continued to drift. The slip tunnel ahead of us glowed bright green, swirling lights coming from inside it. In a sudden flash, the tunnel collapsed on itself, folding back into the darkness from where it came.
“Freddie! Karin! Do either of you read me?” I called.
No answer. The comms on these suits were short range, and we’d stayed on the ship as it continued its acceleration, which meant we could be hundreds of kilometers away from the others by this point.
