The plasma burns felt good in the coldness of space. The schism is only four days in and opposition on both sides is waning. I pour on relief with some bactine and take a sharp inhale. Some painkillers would be nice but we can’t always get what we want.
I start wondering where everyone else is, wondering if they all died in the lightshow. Suddenly, my radio beeps, I check it, asking if anyone is out there – silence. Finally I decide to stand up, in one hand the radio, in the other the stunner. Walking towards the loading bay, I wonder why they call it a stunner if it can do so much more.
Checking the corners, checking for bodies, checking for life; nothing, where did everyone go? Not even the Captain’s crew is there, not even a flicker of light, not even a flicker of life. My stomach takes a flip and drops to my feet. Did I miss something? The light built into the stunner starts flickering and then dies completely. Great, now I get to investigate in the dark.
Scurrying over to the next loading dock, I flick on my night vision, quickly remembering why it was a last-resort option. The night vision shows up in grainy hues of gray and the resolution is so detailed that I can see my entire hand -- its entirely unreliable if one is looking for details. The only real plus side is that people can’t see where you point with the night vision. A quick glance around the loading dock, still nothing. Two down and two remaining.
Walking into the third loading dock is like walking into an abandoned school on a windy day, with the rusty swings swinging in the background. Articles of how-to guides and instruction manuals for the equipment lays scattered every where, some burnt. The lingering smell of white gas in the air, there was a lightshow around here. I trip over something, but I don’t fall. Damn night vision. Looking back, it looks like some sort of tentacle, or something. It’s bloody and absolutely disgusting. I hold back a gag.
Deep breaths and scrambled feet move me into the next room, holy shit. Blood smeared across the floor, drag marks. I swallow my fear. The remains of a stunner a couple of feet in front of the smear, I pick it up and take the battery – I think it’s time I abandon ship. I look around for anything else that could be slightly useful. A hotblade, and two battery clips for my stunner, these discoveries lead me into a sprint for the communications bay.
Oh look, painkillers.
The corridors are completely empty, like an old-Western town before a gun fight. I manage my footing on the loose articles and random bodily fluids on the floor. When did all of this happen? Did I pass out after the lightshow? Where the hell is everybody? I get to the communications bay, the doors don’t open. I reach for the manual override of the automated controls – dead. The hotblade from my pocket works wonders on metal (works better on skin and armor, but let’s save that for later).
I take off the surrounding metal leaving the interface hanging, the exposed wires show that the power was cut to the panel. Simple enough. Taking the clip from the stunner, I put the appropriate wires where they belong and the interface lights up, enough for me to give it a quick kick with my knee. You really learn to love pressure sensors. The door bows to my violence and I take the battery and jump through the door – closing behind me like Indiana Jones going through a collapsing wall – I check for my fedora before it closes and remember that I’m still not Indiana
The communications bay is a straight hall into a circular room; the com-units are in the center, and several large see-through monitors that would emit a vivid light when they’re working. On the walls there are four emergency pods reserved for higher ranking officers, or in my case, an engineer with a hotblade and access codes.
The lights above the com-units flicker violently and I quickly check the drawers for anything useful. The computers are still on, interesting. I deactivate my night vision and flip the monitor on, which turns on the two remaining transparent monitors (as the other two have been cracked or shattered). It displays the status of each bay of the ship, the navigation bay is completely offline and the fire sensors on the officer’s deck have all been activated – the officers are either on fire, or, were on fire and are now very crispy critters. I check the status of the pods in the comms bay, vacated, shit – now what – I then check the status of the remaining escape pods, as well as life-ships. All life-ships have been either taken, or destroyed by small arms fire.
My skin crawls, the navigation bay goes back online, and, look at that, there are still pods in the service deck of the nav-bay. I look up at the lights, which flickers their feelings in return. Taking off my night vision goggles I wipe my forehead, sweat and grime come off my hand and are moved onto the seat of my pants. I sit in the chair, today has been a day for the books. I check my wrist and my engineer’s watch, which has earned the name of Emma, my nagging ex-wife, she emits her heads-up-display that interacts with the contacts built into my eyes, essentially talking to my brain directly, the worst kind of ex-wife. Turns out I did pass out earlier, it’s been two days since I last checked in. Everything is still a green-light in my suit but my blood pressure is a little on the high side – which should be expected under this stress.
I spit onto the floor and turn off my watch, strap in my headset, and pick up my stunner – or at least try to. It falls onto the floor and as I reach to pick it up I notice a revolver taped onto the bottom of the desk, very-old school, but that’s the kind of guy I am. I jack into Emma, she tells me that it’s a .50 Magnum revolver, essentially a rocket launcher in terms of hand-held firearms. I take it and place it where my welding gun should have been, which brings the question of where it went to.
I get up and mark my waypoint with my watch, she tells me the most effective way to get there, turn-by-turn. This reminds me that the doors were locked behind me, in the event of a power loss all doors shut, which was a stupid idea if you ask me. The hotblade is running low on juice, so I take out my rocket launcher. Aimed at the console, dead center, I pull the trigger. The .50 rocket takes my hands over my head, my ears ring and the console cries in electrical tears.
A deep sigh and I pull the doors apart. Without the console the doors lose their magnetic seal, which again was another stupid design. Turning on the door, I could see where the bullet tore through the metal like light at a goth party, you really learn to love older things sometimes. I drop my night vision down and it obeys my force.
I find myself sprinting down the corridor, again, the entire ship is only technically one story. So there are no elevators, only a few steps here and there. I clear the sprint in less than two minutes, Captain would have been so proud if he wasn’t char-broiled.
I arrive at the doors, console smashed, doors mangled opened, Jack the Ripper style – the blood on the steel sends shivers down my leg and I grip the stunner tighter. Welcome to the nav-bay, where the only thing I’ll be navigating through is the remainder of my sanity.
I proceed with caution, the new battery in my stunner emits an infrared laser showing me exactly what’s going to die. Three steps in and the vent explodes with hot and humid air. Fantastic, now I’m hot, sweaty, grimy, and to top it all off I smell like day-old shrimp. The lights don’t flicker at all, because more than half are completely shattered, like a selective EMP dissolved any ray of hope.
I turn to the guard station and check for anything useful, which is funny because the usefulness of a guard station in a nav-bay is completely defined by itself. I proceed through the mangled door. This ship is not big at all; in less than a hundred steps I pass through the empty, dark, creepy rooms and enter into the main nav-bay. There are meaty vines growing on several of the wall-computers and I have no idea where the pods are. I check one computer that is still pure, I flip my goggles up.
The service room is through a computer, interesting, false wall. I check the status of the pods when the entire room goes black – I flip the goggles down and draw my stunner like I was born for this shit. The room is empty but the meat tentacles start to pulse, so does my stomach as the vomit builds a fire in my throat.
I find where the crease is in the computers, the vines start to grow, grow fast. My handle spins on the palm of my hand and with it the blade turns red-hot. I slice through the vines like a butcher on some filet mignon, like butta’.
The vines recoil as if I care how they feel, and I force the wall open. I’m greeted with a plethora of black, with something on the wall – like a child. Of the three doors this is the one I need to go through, when I get home I’m playing the damn lottery.
Suddenly, a light emits from the wall-sac-child, infrared clearly. Raising my stunner I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder, I fire, three times. The light from the stunner reveals the definition of lightshow, white gas now filling the room. They say that white gas is non-toxic, but when you inhale it, I compare it to smoking a Cuban cigar in one huge toke. I cough horribly until water starts to squeeze out of my eyes. I flip up my goggles like they affect my breathing. Rubbing my eyes I then flick the goggles back into mission mode.
I check my shoulder; it looks like some hard puss was shot at me, accurately, in perfect darkness. That abomination deserved every shot it took. Walking by it I shoot it one more time, a vendetta well pass its end. I would observe the body but the night vision would only show it in a low resolution hue of gray, effectively wasting my time.
This room is no different than the others, black and cold. There’s an access terminal on the wall, I walk over to it and plug Emma in, she checks the status of the escape pods:
1 - Available
1 - Occupied
What the hell, who would go into an escape pod and not escape – curiosity outweighs fear. I lock my stunner into my shoulder strap, and whip out my .50, the most powerful handgun on Earth, hope this punk is feeling lucky.
I press the emergency open, gun drawn and cocked. The doors snap open after the 5-second countdown.
It’s the Captain, or at least was, or maybe still is. It looks like he only has an upper body, he looks at me, his hazel eyes bloodshot to hell.
“Fuck you spacefreak!” He screams at me while he picks up his ComLaser (which works like a com unit, but can also shoot a ball of hot plasma). The Magnum bucks as expected and tears at my ex-captain like a heavyweight boxer on a chump. The smell of gunpowder is heavy in the air and my ears ring like nothing else. I notice my former friend turned enemy, he’ll live forever as the headless podman.
I press the button which snaps the doors close and then activate the jettison. Smooth sailing captain. I activate my pod and direct it towards the location of the last known port. At least the pods have their own nav-computers. I go in backwards; my night vision picks up something crawling. The countdown begins from five and ends at the closing of the pod doors, as well as the launching of it.
It looks like it has a face, but I can still see its infrared eyes. My Magnum sticks out from the doors, just a simple hello, or goodbye.
3, 2, 1, BOOM, 0.
She bucks into the pod right when the doors snap, my ears ring yet again, but the satisfaction of leaving is enough to remedy that. I take off my goggles and put them in a medium sized storage compartment, I empty my pockets into it as well. The coolness of the pod helps me relax, perfect temperature. The Magnum sits on my lap, hot from all the action, but warm through my pants. I rest my head on the back of the seat, which is more like a bed. I open a small drawer next to the storage compartment.Oh look, painkillers.
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