by Tripp Ellis
“There isn’t. But best to err on the side of caution.”
“And what if I don't want to stick around until you get here?”
“Commander, you know the protocol. You’ve entered a classified facility and you need to be debriefed before you can reintegrate with civilian populations."
Max frowned. She didn’t want to stick around this place any longer than she had to. And she wasn’t inclined to trust Talbot. “I guess I'll see you in 24 hours."
“I’ll check back with you in an hour.”
“I'll be counting the seconds,” Max said, her voice wet with sarcasm.
She left the CIC and weaved her way through the corridors. A low groan rumbled through the ship. It wasn't uncommon for a ship’s hull to expand and contract during the course of normal operations, but creeping through dark passageways in an abandoned ship lost in a nebula could unnerve even the toughest of sailors. Max’s finely tuned hearing picked up on every creak and rattle. In a situation like this, you could begin to hear things that weren't really there. Max wasn't paranoid or superstitious, but the conditions certainly made her hyper-aware.
She found Winston standing in the hallway before the hatch to a secure compartment. Winston didn't have to explain anything to Max—the warning signs on the hatch said it all. Biohazard. Authorized personnel only. Do not enter without proper safety attire.
It begged the question, what the hell was in that compartment? No pathogen, my ass, Max thought.
Max peered through the viewport of the hatch. There was an airlock before the main compartment. There was a wash station where nozzles sprayed disinfectant, presumably before entering and exiting the hot zone. The compartment had a negative pressure air system, so even with the door wide open, no air could escape. Scrubbers filtered the air, capturing particles down to .001 microns. But even the best containment protocols are useless if someone makes a mistake.
The pathogen they were so desperately trying to contain had obviously gotten out. This was a black ops research ship, and they had either found a new pathogen, or were developing a new type of bio-weapon—the development of which was clearly against the terms of the Galactic Convention. It was an illegal operation, and one the Federation would go to great lengths to keep quiet.
Rage boiled within Max. Bio-weapons had decimated entire planets, leaving them uninhabitable for centuries. Whole populations had been annihilated. It seemed the hard lessons of the past were being ignored.
9
"Accessing the lab may provide us with some valuable insight into the nature of the pathogen," Winston said. "I'll see if I can bypass the locking mechanism."
"Have at it, Kid," Max said.
The robot was eager to access the lab. A virulent pathogen was perhaps the one thing that Winston wasn’t afraid of. It was harmless to him, but his concern for Max’s well-being was growing.
The Aurora creaked and groaned again. Thunder from the electromagnetic storms rumbled through the ship. Max heard what she thought were the faint clank of footsteps on the deck above. Her eyes snapped toward the direction of the sound. She exchanged a curious glance with Winston. "Stay here and keep working on that lock.”
Winston nodded.
Max raced down the corridor, turning at the next junction. She dashed to a ladder and climbed up to the next deck. The beams of light from her helmet swept the dark corridor as she poked her head through the ladder well.
The hallway was empty.
Max crept through the muted passage with her weapon in the firing position, moving with tactical precision. "Is anybody there?" she yelled.
There was no response.
She knew she heard footsteps. There was someone else aboard this ship—she was sure of it. Max kept moving down the hallway, peering into the viewports of each compartment that she passed.
They were all empty.
From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure darting across the corridor at the end of the passageway.
Max chased after the shape, knowing it wasn't a figment of her imagination. As she rounded the corner, two plasma bolts streaked in her direction, illuminating the bulkheads with a blue glow.
Max ducked for cover behind the corner.
The bolts slammed into the bulkhead, showering amber sparks that rained down to the deck.
"Identify yourself!” a voice shouted from the darkness.
“Commander Max Mars, retired. I'm responding to your distress signal."
There was no reply.
Max carefully peered around the corner. In the darkness, she could see the gold bars of a lieutenant’s rank device glimmer as they reflected the emergency lighting. A nervous lieutenant was pressed against the bulkhead, hiding behind a support brace—his plasma pistol still aimed in Max’s direction.
"You can lower your weapon. I'm here to help."
The lieutenant still said nothing.
"I'm going to step into the hallway. I'd prefer you didn't shoot me." Max waited a moment then eased into the passageway with her hands in the air. Her plasma rifle dangled from its sling.
The lieutenant still had his weapon aimed at her.
"What's your name, Lieutenant?”
After a long moment, he responded. "Dobson." His voice trembled slightly, clearly panicked.
“I’d feel a lot better if you weren’t pointing that weapon at me."
Dobson hesitated a moment, then holstered his pistol. "Sorry, Commander. I'm just not sure what's going on here."
"That makes two of us."
Dobson stepped out of the shadows. He had an innocent face, brown hair, and blue eyes. He was maybe 5’8”, when he was standing tall. He was probably 25 or 26, though he looked barely old enough to serve.
“Why didn't you abandon ship with the rest of your crew?"
"I don't know."
"Can you tell me what happened?"
There was a long pause. "I wish I could, but I can't remember."
Max lifted her brow, surprised. "You can't remember?"
Dobson shook his head. "I woke up in a storage compartment with a hell of a headache. I think I got hit in the head," he said rubbing the back of his skull.
"Was your head injury accidental? Or did somebody hit you?"
Dobson shrugged again. "I don't know. The last thing I remember was that we were on our way to the nebula.”
Max didn't know what to think. It didn't seem like he was lying, but Max couldn't be sure. Something had gone wrong here, and it didn't seem to be an accident. Someone had sabotaged the escape pods. Could it have been Dobson?
"What can you tell me about this ship’s mission?"
“It's classified.”
“That’s what Commander Talbot said.”
“You spoke with him?”
Max nodded. “I know you were developing bio-weapons here. That cat is out of the bag. Now that the pathogen is no longer contained, I think you can fill me in on the details.”
Dobson's eyes widened with terror. “The pathogen is loose?”
"I take it you haven't seen Takagi's body?"
Dobson shook his head. “This is bad,” he muttered. “This is really bad.”
It was the understatement of the century.
10
Dobson hovered over Takagi's body in the med center. Winston was prepping the body for cryo-storage. Takagi’s skin was beginning to slough, and the air was filled with a foul stench. Dobson's face was pale. His tone was grim. “If the pathogen is airborne, we’ve got 24, maybe 48, hours.”
Max cringed. “So, we may already be infected?”
“Most likely.”
“Is there an antidote?”
“Not that I'm aware of.”
“How much do you know about the virus?"
"I know it does this," he said, gesturing to Takagi’s putrid corpse. “I'm not a scientist. I'm a tactical officer.”
“Can you access the research lab?"
Dobson nodded. “What good is that going to do?"
“If Winston can access the database, he can learn more about the pathogen. Perhaps there is something we can do to delay onset, or minimize its impact.” Max took a deep breath. "The way I see it, we have two options. We can try to reach the medical facility on Barakus 7, or we can stay here and try to find a cure.”
“We can't leave the ship. Risk of spreading the virus is too great. If this reaches the Federation at large, it could decimate the entire population within a matter of weeks. Because of that, there are certain protocols in place.”
“What type of protocols?”
“In a catastrophic event, and this certainly qualifies as one, containment is priority one.”
“Understandable.”
"Talbot’s not sending a rescue team. He’s sending an attack squad to destroy the ship. It's the only way to ensure the destruction of the virus and prevent proliferation."
That hung in the air for a moment.
Dobson continued, “My guess is they will be on site in 12 to 24 hours.”
Max was pissed. She shook her head in disgust. "This is exactly why you don't fuck with this kind of shit. It’s a clear violation.”
“I know, I know.”
“Who authorized this?" Her blue eyes filled with rage.
“Look, Commander, I just work here. They tell me to jump, and I ask how high.”
Max knew that directing her anger at Dobson was a waste of energy. It wasn't his fault. It was probably some bureaucrat back in Congress, part of a special committee, authorizing and funding black ops research into prohibited bio-weapons. Maybe it was a rogue operation? Maybe some shadowy division of an intelligence agency? The corporations were definitely involved. Genomedyne, War-Tek, or Hughes & Kessler. Those three companies dominated the military-industrial complex. Billions of dollars in government contracts were probably riding on the outcome of this research facility.
Dobson and Winston followed Max as she marched to the research lab. Dobson punched the security code into the keypad, unlocking the compartment. He stepped away and flung his hands into the air. "I don't want any part of that place."
"We're probably already infected," Max said.
"We don't know that for sure. Why tempt fate?"
"The air scrubbers on the ship should filter out bacteria and pathogens as a matter of routine." Winston said. “If the virus is, in fact, airborne, there's a slight possibility that you both may have avoided infection, though doubtful. You were, after all, in close proximity to Takagi. However, I will follow all containment protocols just as an added measure of safety."
Something crashed against the exterior hull, sending a thundering rumble through the ship. The bulkheads reverberated with a bone jarring sound, and the deck shook. It was like an earthquake.
"What the hell was that?" Dobson asked.
Max glanced toward the direction of the sound. Another impact sent another deafening clatter through the Aurora.
SMASH!
Another impact.
SMASH! SMASH!
Like the beginning of a rainstorm with the first few drops lightly falling, the massive impacts increased in frequency. It was a meteor shower. Space rocks of all sizes clanked and clattered against the hull. It was like a ruthless hailstorm.
The Aurora vibrated with each hit.
Max's face filled with concern. The Aurora might be able to withstand the brutal onslaught of a meteor shower, but the Vantage would likely suffer greater damages.
Felix was all alone and probably scared to death.
Max sprinted down the corridor to a row of viewports that lined an exterior bulkhead. She peered out the window and caught a glimpse of the Vantage hovering beside the Aurora. Meteors that ranged from the size of a small truck to larger than a house streaked past the Aurora, narrowly missing the Vantage.
Max ran down the corridor to the airlock. She stepped inside and sealed the inner airlock hatch. She lowered her visor and pressurized her suit, then depressurized the compartment. Her fist mashed a button on the bulkhead and the exterior hatch slid open. She watched as several smaller meteorites impacted the hull of the Vantage, shattering into smaller fragments, leaving unsightly indentations. The force of the impact sent the Vantage adrift.
Max reached through the exterior hatch and grabbed the safety harness that she had affixed to the exterior hull. The once slack cable was growing taught as the Vantage drifted away. She disconnected it from the hull. It pulled her out of the airlock before she could latch it on to her EVA suit.
Her fist gripped the cable tightly as she was towed along. She pulled herself close to the carabiner and attached it to her suit. She was now tied to the fate of the Vantage, for good or bad. Fist over fist, she pulled herself along the cable, meteors whizzing past her on all sides. It was like playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded revolver.
Several smaller meteors smashed against the Vantage, breaking up into tiny rocks, showering debris in all directions. Even for Max, it was a terrifying situation. Her heart thumped in her chest, and the sound of her heavy breath echoing in her helmet was panic inducing. Her visor was beginning to fog.
Max kept pulling herself along the cable until she reached the dropship. She pulled herself inside. Felix's travel container was just as she had left it, attached to the bulkhead with a safety cable.
As Max moved toward the feline, a massive meteor impacted the Vantage. The thunderous boom sounded like a cannon. The rattle was bone jarring. The ship quaked and the vibration was damn near enough to give Max a concussion as her head bounced around inside her helmet. Bits of debris showered in all directions. The impact sent the Vantage spiraling into the abyss. A massive meteor had ripped through the hull, tearing the ship in two. There was a gigantic hole where the cockpit once was. The bulkheads near the impact were twisted and frayed.
Max was dazed and disoriented from the collision. When she finally regained her bearings, her eyes scanned the ship, hoping Felix had survived.
11
By some miracle, Felix's container was still intact and affixed to the bulkhead with a safety cable. But the Vantage was spiraling into the foggy haze. Max caught glimpses of the Aurora as it spun by with each rotation of the Vantage.
Max launched herself across the cargo bay and clutched onto Felix's container. She detached it from the safety cable, then released her own harness.
The Vantage was a deathtrap.
The longer Max stayed aboard, the farther away from the Aurora she would drift. Her only hope for survival was to get back to the research vessel. But it wasn't going to be a simple task.
Max moved to the edge of the rear hatch, clutching Felix’s container. Glimpses of the Aurora blinked by. As the Vantage rotated, Max tried to time her leap. Each second, the Aurora faded farther into the distance. Max was waiting for just the right moment to launch herself into space. She was trying to time the clockwise rotation of the Vantage so it would help propel her on the proper trajectory toward the Aurora. The constant spinning was nauseating. Max was more than ready to get off the damaged ship.
She sprang into the abyss with all her might, clutching onto Felix's container.
The Vantage tumbled away into space as Max drifted toward the Aurora—well, she was more or less heading in the direction of the Aurora. She could barely she the ship through the haze. She used her navigational thrusters in her palms and boots to guide her trajectory. The meteors were still blazing through the milky nebula all around her. It was like trying to cross a 6 lane freeway on foot. She wasn't going to be able to react fast enough to avoid the space rocks. She didn't even bother trying. Max was just going to make a beeline for the Aurora and hope for the best. Even a small meteoroid, traveling at tens of thousands of miles an hour, could puncture her suit and pulverize her internal organs. She'd be dead before the halfway point.
Max was bathed in sweat now. She could feel it pooling in the small of her back, and in between her breasts. The suit was sticking to her skin. Her heart was in her throat. S
he worried about Felix. He must have been terrified.
The shape of the Aurora became clearer as she drew closer. Max kept making small adjustments with the thrusters, attempting to stay on target. A meteor the size of a house blazed past her only a few meters away. A space rock that size could have put a hole through the Aurora with ease. Even if Max did make it back to the ship in one piece, there was no guarantee the Aurora would survive the continued onslaught.
Max glided through the abyss for what seemed like an eternity. She watched as the rocks blasted and shattered against the ship’s hull. She finally reached the airlock and pulled herself inside. She hit the button on the bulkhead, sealing the exterior hatch. Max re-pressurized the compartment, opened the interior hatch, and stepped back into the hallway of the Aurora.
She could barely see out of her fogged visor. She retracted it into her helmet and breathed a sigh of relief.
The bulkheads still rumbled with each impact, but at least now there was a little bit of protection between Max and the devastating chunks of rock that were hurtling through space.
Max held up Felix's container to assess his condition.
Felix screeched and pawed at the viewport. He was not a happy camper.
"It's okay. You're safe now."
Felix wasn't buying it. Hanging out on a research vessel with deadly pathogens while the ship was in the middle of a meteor shower, lost in a nebula, was anything but safe.
"Don't be mad at me. I thought you'd be safer on the Vantage."
Felix meowed in a resigned tone.
Max headed down the corridor toward the CIC. It was typically the safest part of the ship. But she only got a few steps when another thunderous impact slammed the hull.
This was larger and more devastating than anything prior.
A massive space rock tore through the hull. It ripped through every deck, leaving a gaping hole. Debris spiraled into space. The edges of the bulkheads were frayed and mangled. Severed electrical wiring sparked and crackled as the atmosphere rushed through the gaping wound. Wind whipped through the passageways like a hurricane as the ship depressurized. It swept Max off her feet and flung her into the air. She held onto Felix's container for dear life as she was tossed down the hallway. Just before she was thrust out into the void, she managed to grasp a piece of piping that ran along the bulkhead. She was only a few feet from the abyss. Everything that wasn't secured was sucked into space. Max was doing her best to hold on, but even with her superior strength, she wasn't going to be able to hold out against the wind much longer. With her visor open, her helmet was like a sail, catching the wind, forcing her head back. The gusts were enough to peel your eyelids open and dry out your eyeballs. And things were about to get worse.
