by Tripp Ellis
Zoey twisted to see. She almost lost her footing. Her flashlight beams scanned the hallway.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” she said.
Mitch climbed up after her.
Declan’s voice crackled over the comm system. “Wh— g—ing o— in th—?”
“Come again?” Zoey said. “You’re breaking up”
Declan responded, but his voice was even more distorted.
“I can’t hear you.”
Nothing but crackling static remained on the line.
“It’s probably just the nebula,” Mitch said. “Does funny things to electronics and communications.”
Zoey felt like it was doing funny things to her mind. She could have sworn she saw someone running across the corridor. Without a suit, as if there was gravity on the ship. But none of that was possible. She was beginning to think there might be something to all the stories about the Revenant.
She kept reminding herself that it was all just her imagination. It was quite common for your mind to play tricks on you after long stretches in deep space. There had been documented cases of entire crews going insane and turning against one another. The USS Providence at the turn of the century. The USS Rampage in the colonial war.
She wondered if that’s what happened here. There were many times aboard the Scorpion where she felt like she was going to murder someone if they said that same inane phrase one more time. Or if she had to listen to their annoying cackle, or see their stupid smirk one more time. After months and months of monotony, sometimes someone’s very presence just made you want to stab a kitchen knife through their eye socket.
But this was hardly a long stretch in deep space for her. This was just a product of an overactive imagination and too many ghost stories.
Zoey climbed up another deck and plodded to the CIC. She had expected to find skeletons or corpses drifting through the passageways. But there was nothing.
The CIC was dark and empty. Her flashlight beam danced across the control consoles. They were dark and powerless.
There was a clipboard, a pen, an empty bottle of wine, and other odds and ends floating in the air.
“Where are all the bodies?” Mitch asked.
“Maybe they evacuated the ship?”
Zoey stepped to the command station and brushed away the layer of frost that coated the display.
Mitch grabbed the wine bottle out of the air and read the label. “Château Delacroix.” He raised his brow, impressed. “That’s an expensive bottle of wine. Maybe the captain of the Revenant was drunk?” He let the bottle float back into the air. It tumbled around, freely.
“Here goes nothing.” Zoey initiated a boot sequence for the ship. She pressed a few command keys but nothing happened. After a few moments, the display flickered to life. Other command consoles began to light up in a cascading array. Just as she had thought, the ship had gone into a standby mode, conserving energy.
The system came online in safety mode. It was a limited mode that brought only essential components online in order to minimize complications, if some components were malfunctioning. It was designed to avoid an entire system lockup.
The emergency lighting came up throughout the ship. The hallways and compartments were still dim and dark, but at least you could see your way around now. It was probably the first time the entire ship had been illuminated in years.
Back on the Zephyr, Declan could see the Revenant’s running lights illuminate. He tried again to make contact with Mitch and Zoey, but only static filled the comm line.
The Revenant’s computer automatically ran a diagnostic to detect any faults. Zoey watched the console as it ran through a list of checks.
“So, what’s the word?” Mitch asked.
“It’s still processing.”
After a few minutes, the system completed its diagnostic.
“Shit,” Zoey said.
“What is it?”
“Good news and bad news. The atmosphere processor checks out. But the engines and reactors are off-line. We’re running on the backup fuel cells now. Looks like there’s a breach in the hull in sections 167 through 172.”
“If it’s small enough, we can repair it”
“I can seal off those compartments, for now.” Zoey selected the compartments on the display screen and closed the hatches.
“I’m going to activate the artificial gravity.” She pressed a button on the console. Everything that was floating around the room crashed to the ground. The wine bottle smashed into thousands of shards. You could hear the echo of debris and clutter clanking throughout the ship as the objects impacted the deck simultaneously on multiple levels. Zoey could feel the slight rumble beneath her feet.
She paged through a few more screens and activated the atmosphere processor. “It’s going to take several hours, but we should have breathable air before too long.”
Plumes of dust and particles rushed out of the air vents as the system rumbled to life.
Zoey tabbed through the display, trying to pull up the ship’s logs. She hoped that they would shed some light on what had happened 25 years ago. “That’s weird. All the logs are blank. It’s like they’ve been erased.”
“Maybe electromagnetic interference wiped the drives?”
“I don’t think so.” She kept scrolling through the data. “All of the escape pods were jettisoned.”
“Why abandon a ship that seems to be intact?”
Zoey shrugged. Her eyes fixated on the pile of broken glass. It was all that remained of a bottle of wine that cost 10,000 credits. Larger shards were still clinging to the label. Zoey stepped toward the debris and knelt down for closer look. She lifted up the label and tried to see through her foggy visor.
“What, are you some kind of wine connoisseur?”
“I know a good bottle when I see one. And I can also read labels. This bottle of wine is only five years old.”
Mitch’s eyes went wide. “Then what’s it doing on this ship?”
“Somebody else must have boarded her in the last five years.”
“And what happened to them?”
Zoe shrugged, her face tinged with worry.
“So, I guess we’ll just go back to the Zephyr and wait for the atmosphere to come up?” Mitch smiled nervously. He didn’t want to be aboard the Revenant any more than Zoey did.
“Let’s check out engineering first, see what we’re dealing with?”
“Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”
18
WALKER
Walker, Malik, and Saaja cleaned their battle armor and made it somewhat more presentable. It wasn’t quite worthy of an official event with the Emperor, but it was close enough.
Afterwards, Walker explored the ship. Most of the Decluvian crew had never seen a Saarkturian up close and personal. In full battle armor, Walker got plenty of stares as he strolled the corridors. He was convincing, dressed as a Saarkturian.
He found a navigation map on one of the bulkheads. He couldn’t read the Decluvian language, but the visor optics in the Saarkturian helmet gave him an onscreen translation. It was pretty handy, and he wished the UPDF had that technology.
Walker tabbed through the screens and familiarized himself with the basic layout of the ship. It wasn’t all that different from a UPDF carrier. There were only so many ways you could put together the same basic components. Flight decks, command centers, living quarters, recreational facilities, reactors, med center, hangar bays, storage, engineering, etc. He looked for the detention center. It was on deck 3 amidships.
No harm in sizing the place up, he thought. If he could reasonably rescue the prisoners and escape the ship, it would be worth a shot. But he didn’t need to turn this into a suicide mission. He couldn’t let his anger get the best of him. He couldn’t go in guns blazing.
He strolled aft down the corridor—a large bay window overlooked Delta Vega. He gazed out over the destruction below. There was a constant flow of transports, fighters,
and drop ships coming to and fro the armada.
Walker clenched his fist, and he swelled with anger. This was going to be the fate of New Earth if someone didn’t stop the Decluvians. Right now, he was the only operational member of the military in the vicinity. He was going to have to be that someone.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” a Decluvain sailor said. He spoke in Saarkturese. The Decluvians seemed to be going out of their way to make the Saarkturians feel welcomed. He had taken a position next to Walker, gazing out at the triumphant victory.
Walker wanted to strangle the frog-like bastard. “Quite a sight indeed.”
“If you would have told me six months ago that we’d be fighting for the Saarkturians, I would’ve said you’re crazy. But I’m glad we’re on the same team. We’ll control the entire galaxy in no time.” He grinned. “I’m Gludard, by the way.” He held out his hand to shake.
Walker hesitated. He wanted to punch the bug-eyed amphibian.
“Don’t worry. Our skin is only toxic when we’re threatened. Plus, your gloves would protect you.”
Walker extended his hand, and the two shook. The Decluvian’s long slender fingers wrapped around his hand and squeezed tight. He had a helluva grip. These creatures were lean muscle. They had quick, springy reflexes.
“Well, it was nice to meet you. I’ve gotta get to my post.” The sailor took off down the hall. He seemed like a nice enough guy, except for the part about taking over the galaxy.
Walker strolled aft and descended to deck 3. He made his way to the detention area. As he arrived, the Decluvians were carting out a dead human body. Walker’s eyes grew wide. He recognized the dead man as one of the prisoners from the flight deck. He was alive an hour ago.
Walker’s face tightened. His blood boiled.
Two sailors wheeled the victim passed him in the corridor.
Walker’s rage emboldened him, and he grabbed one of the sailors by the arm. “What happened here?”
“We’re taking these to the royal galley to be prepared for the feast.” The sailor gazed at the corpse with envious eyes. “I wish I was invited to that.”
The two sailors carried on about their business.
Walker felt nauseous.
Two guards stood watch outside the entrance to the detention center. Walker strolled by, trying to get a look inside. He tried to peer in through the viewport in the hatch as he passed. But the guards weren’t having any of it.
“This area is off limits to visitors.”
Walker nodded and kept moving. From his brief glimpse, he had seen a central command station. According to the ship’s navigation map, beyond the command station was an intake and prisoner processing area. The holding cells were beyond that.
He strolled through the corridors until he found another map terminal on the bulkhead. He studied the layout of the detention center carefully. It was a massive holding area capable of housing 1000 inmates.
The detention center was designed to keep people from getting out, but not necessarily from getting in. Walker examined the layout for vulnerabilities. Potential points of entry from neighboring compartments. But no matter how he figured it, breaking a thousand prisoners out of jail and sneaking them to a transport ship on the flight deck seemed like an impossible task.
While Walker plotted and schemed, a security officer had taken notice of him, and gotten suspicious. He watched Walker on a display screen from a surveillance room. He zoomed in to see what was on the map Walker was studying. It sent up a red flag. He was paying just a little too much attention to the detention center.
The security officer ran a bio scan on Walker, and used the fluoroscopic x-ray imaging mode on the hall-cam to see through his body armor. He immediately reported his findings to the CIC.
19
ZOEY
Narrow beams of emergency lighting lit the corridors. They flickered randomly—some type of power anomaly. Despite the lighting, plenty of dark shadows remained throughout the ship.
The gas and dust particles of the nebula allowed the low frequency rumble of the electrical storm to cascade through the Revenant. Random bursts of thunder rattled the ship. Combined with the creaking and groaning of the vessel, it made for a creepy feeling.
Zoey and Mitch descended the ladders to the hangar deck—all of the fighters were gone. The hangar deck had the capacity to store a hundred. There were no shuttles or troop transports. There wasn’t a single craft left on the Revenant. Zoey felt an ominous sense of foreboding wash over her. She was more curious than ever about what really had happened here.
They marched from the hanger deck toward the engineering compartment. Both of them were starting to get the willies aboard this ship. Neither one of them wanted to spend any more time aboard than necessary. Zoey was getting the feeling that something bad happened here. And she figured the less she knew about it the better.
“We should really start heading back now,” Mitch said. “We’ve got less than 45 minutes of oxygen left.”
“I just want to see what condition the engines are in.”
“I don’t think we have time for that.”
Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she was thinking if she just gathered all the necessary information, she might not have to come back on board.
They were on deck 2, compartment 143. Even on a fully operational destroyer, this was a creepy place to be. Only nuclear techs and engineers came down this way.
The hatch ahead of them was closed—many of the hatches they encountered had been. Zoey pressed the button on the bulkhead, and the hatch slid open. They took several steps into the passageway. The hatch slammed closed behind them—all by itself. It made them both practically jump out of their skin.
“What the fuck?” Mitch gasped for breath.
“Relax. There’s some kind of glitch in the electrical system. It’s no big deal.” Zoey said the words to comfort herself as much as she did Mitch. Her heart was pounding in her chest.
The emergency lighting flickered for a moment.
Zoey and Mitch shared an ominous glance.
She took another step and the lights went out completely. It was pitch black until she could illuminate her helmet lighting.
Mitch moved back to the hatch and pressed the access button on the bulkhead. But the hatch didn’t open. He mashed it repeatedly.
Still nothing.
He was starting to panic. His face was dripping with sweat, and the color had washed from his skin.
Zoey grabbed onto his arm. “Mitch. Pull it together.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but we’re stuck in this fucking hallway.”
Zoey tried to remain calm. She took a deep breath. “No. We are not stuck. We are going to walk down to the next section and open the hatch.”
It was an optimistic thought. But in the back of her mind she couldn’t help but start to worry that Mitch might just be right.
They clanked down the corridor, feeling more and more claustrophobic with each step. Zoey’s visor was pretty well fogged by now. The defrost system in the suit either wasn’t working, or was woefully inadequate. It only added to the closed-in feeling that the dark passageways evoked. By the time she reached the second hatch, she was covered in sweat.
She mashed the button on the bulkhead and nothing happened.
“Just a glitch huh?” Mitch’s brow furrowed.
Zoey hit the button a few more times. Still nothing. She freaked out a little bit and started kicking the hatch.
“Weren’t you just saying to remain calm?”
Zoey inhaled deeply, held her breath for a few seconds, then exhaled slowly. She repeated the process a few times. It was a technique she often used to calm herself down. Sort of like a mini-meditation session. Controlling your breathing is the first step to controlling anxiety.
Zoey had never really considered herself claustrophobic. She had been in many tight spots before. But something about the ship was getting to her. Crawling under her skin and rufflin
g her nerves.
It reminded her of going into a creepy fun house as a child. The distorted walls, the warped mirrors, the unnavigable mazes. There was something about traveling carnivals that creeped her out. The smell of moldy canvas tents. Poorly maintained rides. Charlatan fortunetellers. The sensation came rushing back to her.
“We are not stuck,” she repeated. “This is just a temporary setback.”
“It’s going to be a permanent setback if we don’t get out of here before we run out of oxygen.”
There was no other way out of the corridor.
“Maybe there’s a short in the wiring.”
“You got a screwdriver? We need to get the access panel off so I can get to the wiring.”
“Yeah, hang on while I pull a screw driver out of my ass.”
Zoey scowled at him.
There was no way she was going to get the faceplate off the access control panel without a screwdriver, or some kind of tool. The thick bulky gloves of the spacesuit made it almost impossible to do any fine dexterous work with your fingers.
Zoey scanned the passageway for anything that might be used to pry off the faceplate. Even if she could get the faceplate free, there was no guarantee that messing with the wiring inside was going to do any good.
The HUD in her helmet gave a readout of her vital statistics. Heart rate: 96. Blood pressure: 140/92. 32 minutes of oxygen remaining.
The oxygen sensor changed as it recalibrated to her increased heart rate and respiration.
29 minutes remaining.
20
ZOEY
Zoey tried several times to get in touch with Declan on the Zephyr, but all she ever got was static. She and Mitch had tried to force open the hatches, but they were unsuccessful. They looked for a ventilation shaft to crawl through, but there was nothing large enough in this particular compartment.
With 15 minutes of oxygen remaining, she had all but resigned herself to the fact that she was never getting out of this hallway. “I always thought I’d go out in a blaze of glory in the cockpit of a Stingray, not gasping for my last breath in a hallway.”
