Edge of the Abyss: A Space Opera Novella (Max Mars Book 4)

by Tripp Ellis

  The ship's sensors detected the hull breach, and the central computer initiated an emergency response protocol. The hatch at the next juncture in the corridor began to slide shut. The sections of the breach would be sealed off, preserving the ship's atmosphere.

  The wind whistled through the passageway as the hatch narrowed, then slammed shut. The tempest stopped as quickly as it began. All the remaining atmosphere quickly emptied into space. No longer was Max fighting against the gale force winds. But she had other problems—she couldn’t breathe.

  The last clanks and pings of meteors echoed throughout the hull, then there was silence again. The only sound that remained was the occasional rumble of thunder from the electrical storms.

  Max let go of the bulkhead and lowered her visor. She pressurized her suit and finally took a deep breath of air. She floated in the compartment, weightless. The artificial gravity had been damaged in this section of the corridor. She hovered near the edge of the twisted bulkhead, peering into the abyss. The meteor had drilled a relatively clean path through the entire ship, demolishing multiple decks.

  Still clutching Felix's container, Max made her way through the devastation to the exterior hull. She would have to traverse the outside of the ship and re-enter from another airlock.

  Max used her navigational thrusters to glide out of the breach. Then she activated her magnetic boots and clamped onto the hull. From there, she began her march to the nearest airlock.

  Winston’s voice crackled in her earpiece. “Are you still alive?”

  “Barely.” Max’s mag boots clanked against the hull.

  “I was terribly worried about you.”

  “You’re not rid of me yet.”

  “I should hope not. I’m looking forward to enjoying your company for quite some time. Or, at least, until you decide to get rid of me.”

  "I would never get rid of you. You're stuck with me until I cease to exist.”

  “Along those lines, I've moved Lieutenant Takagi into cryo storage and have been examining his blood samples. He had increased lymphocyte production, which is indicative of viral infection. I can definitively say that infection was the cause of death.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “I have been unable to access the computers in the lab. The data is encrypted. Perhaps Lieutenant Dobson has access?”

  “That would be a good place to start. If he'll cooperate.”

  “Surely the biologists that created the virus would also create an anti-virus?”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  “Viruses can't replicate on their own. They use existing cells to reproduce. If I can identify the virus, perhaps I can find a way to stop fusion, or break down viral proteins and inhibit replication. Perhaps a transcriptase inhibitor.”

  “I don't really know what you just said, but it sounds good to me.”

  “Viruses have proteins and lipid layers—“

  “Don't waste time explaining. Just get to work."

  “That is sound, logical advice." Winston ended the transmission.

  Max continued marching across the exterior hull of the Aurora. Walking in mag boots was like walking through thick mud. You had to pry your foot off of the hull with each step.

  For the time being, the nebula was peaceful and serene. A stark contrast to just moments earlier. Without the impending doom of meteors hurtling through space, the nebula looked beautiful and majestic. As were true with many things in the universe, the most beautiful were often the most deadly.

  Max finally reached an airlock on the starboard side. She punched in the security code, and the hatch opened. She stepped inside, sealed the hatch, and pressurized the compartment. Then she opened the inner airlock hatch and stepped into the corridor. Max lifted her visor and took a deep breath of fresh, recycled air. Her chest heaved for breath, and she was drenched in sweat at this point. She was ready to get out of the suit. She had been in the snug garment for longer than she anticipated. The combination of the heat, sweat, and fabric was making her skin itch. It wasn't unbearable, but it was more than annoying. As sleek and light as the suit was, it was still a little bulky and bothersome. Maybe she could find a change of clothes on the ship and slip into something more comfortable? It didn't seem like she was going to need an EVA suit anymore. She was stuck on the ship, and there was no getting off.

  Max snaked through the hallways, weaving her way to the CIC. She set Felix’s container on top of the command console.

  Felix pawed at the container’s viewport. He wanted out of the cramped space. But the transport container was, potentially, the only thing keeping him him free of the pathogen. Max wasn't about to expose him to that.

  They were stuck on this ship. Max had less than 24 hours to find an anti-virus to the pathogen and somehow avoid the impending destruction of the Aurora that would result from the Navy’s contingency plans. She had been in a lot of shitty situations before, but this was quickly rising to the top of the list.

  12

  Max leaned against the control console with her head in her hands. Her body had a slight tremor from the rush of adrenaline. She took a deep breath and tried to regain her composure. Things were looking pretty bleak.

  Max figured if she looked hard enough, she might be able to find some whiskey aboard the ship. It was definitely cocktail hour. It had to be 5 o'clock somewhere.

  The Navy had lifted the ban on alcohol over a century ago. Most Navy ships had bars, but sailors were limited to no more than 1 drink per day, when off-duty. Biometric sensors could detect blood alcohol content, and sailors were monitored continuously. Strict penalties were enforced for alcohol related infractions.

  “I thought you were toast out there," Dobson said. "I watched from the viewport. I've never seen anything like it. You're charmed."

  “Right now I don't really feel charmed. If I'm still around day after tomorrow, then I'll feel charmed."

  “You’re charmed, alright. No doubt about it.”

  Max grinned. “Can you override the automated system and return the ship to manual control?"

  “Not possible. Once the ship goes into lockdown, control can only be restored with an access code provided by Command.”

  “Can you remember anything about how the virus might have escaped containment?"

  “I’m telling you, everything is a blank.”

  He seemed genuine, but Max still wasn't sure she could trust him. Either the virus escaped because of an accident, or it was a deliberate act. Both were terrifying propositions.

  Despite the lockdown, Max was still able to access some of the ship’s basic systems. She ran a diagnostic, hoping to get the full damage report from the meteor shower. Several sections of the hull were damaged, but the areas had been sealed, and the ship’s atmospheric pressure was stable. Numerous birthing compartments had been obliterated, along with the rec room, and a few storage areas. Critical systems seemed to be intact. But, unbeknownst to Max, a tiny meteoroid, less than the size of a golf ball had punctured the hull and ruptured the main cooling tower. Somehow it had gone undetected. But it wasn't going to stay a small, unnoticed problem for long.

  “Is there a bar on this ship?” Max asked.

  “Yeah. Quasars. 3rd deck, starboard side, section 73.”

  Max made a beeline out of the CIC.

  “Is now really the appropriate time?”

  “We might be bleeding out of our eyes in 24 hours. I think now is definitely the time.”

  Dobson shrugged. “Good point.” He followed her into the corridor.

  The hallways were still dim. The ship continued to creak and groan occasionally. The two weaved their way through the corridors to Quasars.

  Dobson moved behind the bar, surveying the selection. "What will it be?"

  "Got any Balvacci Special Reserve?"

  Dobson smiled. "Ah, a woman with good taste." His eyes flicked from bottle to bottle until he found the premium Antarian liquor. He pulled two glasses from under the bar and
slammed them atop the counter. He tilted the bottle and poured the amber whiskey into the glasses until they were almost spilling over. He set the bottle down, grabbed a glass, and raised a toast. "To incurable hemorrhagic diseases."

  Max flashed a grim smile and clinked glasses with Dobson. She pulled the glass to her plush lips and let the smooth liquor glide across her tongue. It slid down the back of her throat and warmed her belly. The Special Reserve was her favorite, and she hadn't been able to find it since back on Orion Station. It was like there was a kink in the supply chain. Nobody seemed to have it in stock at the last several places she'd been. She set her glass back on the counter and motioned for Dobson to fill it.

  He obliged.

  “Don't try to keep up. It will turn out badly for you."

  Dobson took it as a challenge. "Do not underestimate me. Besides, at the rate we're going, I'm not going to have to worry about a hangover tomorrow."

  He had a good point.

  "I'll bet you really wish you never stopped to help," Dobson said.

  Max sighed. "I can think of other places I'd rather be. But it's not in my nature to sit back and do nothing while other people suffer."

  "Even if it's not in your best interest?"

  "We all die sometime."

  "Cheers to that," Dobson said. The two clinked glasses and slugged the fine whiskey down.

  “Now that's good stuff," Dobson said.

  There was a moment of silence, then Max decided to fill up the dead air with small talk. "So, what made you join the Navy?"

  "Don't laugh. I wanted to be a Reaper. Went to OCS, then made it through about two weeks at BSCT. Then decided I didn't have what it took to be a Reaper. I didn't like being cold and wet all the time. It just wasn't for me. All the movies and recruitment posters made it seem a lot cooler than it was. But at the end of the day, those guys are cut from a different cloth. I wish I had what they have.” He sighed, disappointed in himself.

  Max could see the regret in his eyes.

  “I still wanted to serve. So I went back to the fleet and became a tactical officer. I get my coffee every morning, I get to see the galaxy, and apparently I get to die in far-off places. And my family will never know the truth." Dobson forced a resigned smile. "What about you?"

  Max pondered the question for a moment. "You’ve got security clearance, don't you?"

  "Above top-secret."

  "Are you familiar with project SW Ultra?"

  Dobson squinted at her in disbelief. "No way. Doesn't exist. Stories that sailors with overactive imaginations tell."

  Max shrugged. "You're right. It’s all bullshit. The project never existed."

  Her tone was such that Dobson didn't know what to think. "You don't seriously expect me to believe that you were part of project SW Ultra?”

  "I really don't care what you believe." Max smiled and motioned for him to fill her glass. He poured the golden liquid, filling the glass again. Max took the whiskey and tipped it back like a pro.

  "You really expect me to believe that you are some kind of genetically engineered super soldier?"

  "Believe whatever you want to believe."

  "You're pulling my leg."

  Max shrugged again.

  "But that project was disbanded. All participants were…" He didn't want to finish the sentence.

  "Terminated?"

  Dobson nodded.

  "The project was shut down after Doctor Tor was killed." Max had a sullen look on her face as she reminisced. Doctor Tor had been like a father to her.

  "I heard that you were all engineered with preset termination dates. Is that true?"

  "Like I said, we've all got to die sometime."

  "You know how long you've got?"

  Max shrugged. "Does anybody?"

  Dobson was silent a moment.

  Max changed the subject. She figured Dobson might be a little more forthcoming with a few drinks in his belly. “How well did you know Takagi?”

  “We had a small crew. Everybody knew everybody pretty well."

  “Did you get along with him?"

  Dobson’s eyes narrowed at her, wondering where she was going with all this. "Sure. We weren’t best buddies or anything, but I liked him.”

  “Never had a beef?”

  “I didn't have a reason to kill him, if that's what you're asking. He didn't screw my girlfriend. He didn't owe me money. I think it's pretty obvious that he was killed by the virus."

  “I agree. But how did he acquire it?"

  "I wish I knew."

  Max could see he was getting a little frustrated with the line of questioning.

  “You can’t possibly think I had something to do with this, do you?”

  “I've learned to keep all possibilities open.”

  “You've got trust issues.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  Another clank rumbled through the ship. It sounded like it came from the deck above. Max's eyes snapped in the direction of the sound. "Is there anyone else aboard the ship?"

  Dobson shrugged. "I don't think so. Don't you think we would have found them by now?"

  "Not if they didn't want to be found." Max pushed away from the bar and unholstered her pistol.

  She pushed into the hallway then moved aft, toward a ladder. She cautiously climbed up to the next deck. Her intense eyes scanned in all directions. Max edged down the hallway. A power fluctuation passed through the ship like a wave, fluttering the already dim emergency lighting.

  Thunder rumbled. It was spooky.

  Was there somebody else aboard, or was it just some random sound? Max was understandably on edge.

  13

  Power drained from the ship. The monotonous drone of the engines ceased. The Aurora became uncomfortably silent. The emergency lighting went out. The hallways were black as pitch.

  The lighting from Max’s helmet slashed the inky blackness. "What the hell happened?"

  "We lost power," Dobson said, trailing behind her.

  "Thank you, Captain Obvious." Max's face tensed. "Go check engineering. See what's happening."

  “Aye, sir," Dobson responded out of habit. He pulled his mobile device from his pocket and used its flashlight to illuminate his path. He backtracked down the corridor to the ladder and disappeared down the ladderwell.

  Max continued searching for the origin of the mysterious sound. She kept pushing down the hallway with her weapon in the firing position. The only thing she heard was the clink of her boots against the deck, and the random rumble of thunder. The constant drone of the engines had provided a soothing sensation. Now that it was gone, Max felt uneasy. But she noticed the rattle of the air vents—the ship’s environmental system was still working. The Aurora must have been running on a backup fuel cell. All non-essential systems had been shut down. The central computers, hatches, and life support systems were operational, and would be for some time. But the ship wasn't going to be making any quantum jumps without full power.

  Max continued down the hallway, checking each compartment. There was no trace of anyone else aboard the ship.

  Max reached the end of the corridor, then gave up the search. She made her way back to the CIC. It was time to do a little digging. At a command terminal, she pulled up Dobson's personnel file. He had graduated from Vanden College back on New Earth. His Navy career was just as he'd recounted. By all accounts, he was a good officer, and moving up the ranks quickly. He had no prior criminal history before entering the service. He didn't fit the profile of someone who would unleash a deadly virus or kill a shipmate. Maybe this whole thing was just a terrible accident, but Max was going to leave no stone unturned.

  2-63-5-L.

  That was Dobson's birthing compartment. 2nd Deck, section 63, 5 compartments outboard of the centerline to starboard. L indicated it was living compartment.

  Max weaved her way through the dark ship and found Dobson’s stateroom. She pressed a button on the bulkhead and the hatch slid open. It was a small compartment with two
racks, two storage lockers, and a small work area with a desk. There was no attached head, but the accommodations were still nice for a Lieutenant.

  Max began sifting through the stateroom, looking through desk drawers, rifling through the storage locker, searching the nooks and crannies. She didn't know what she was looking for—anything incriminating.

  It didn’t take her long to find something.

  In the pocket of a uniform, hanging in the locker, Max found an injection pen. The chamber was loaded with an empty vial.

  Max's cheeks flushed with anger. The device was a half-inch in diameter and three inches long. It could be easily concealed by cupping it in the palm. Jabbing the nozzle against someone's deltoid and activating the device would be quick and relatively painless. Was this how the virus was administered to Takagi?

  Max took the device and slipped it into a pouch on her utility belt. She made her way toward the bio-lab. As she marched through the dark corridors, she noticed herself feeling flush. A thin mist of sweat had formed over her body. The suit was hot and uncomfortable, but this was something a little more. She was beginning to get a headache, and Max never got headaches. Her body seemed to be getting stiff and achy. It felt like the early onset of the flu. Max found herself grumpy and generally in a bad mood. It was understandable. Anybody in her situation would be in a bad mood. But she was growing more and more convinced that she had been infected.

  When she reached the research lab, she lowered her visor and pressurized her suit. She followed containment protocols, just to be safe. There was no telling what other types of pathogens lurked in the lab.