by CK Burch
Markov raised one eyebrow at her and smiled. He raised one finger: just one more second. Then he spoke into the comm again. ″You know, you neglected to mention that you'd have to be physically inside the cargo bay to operate the energy cables, Doctor Tybalt. When were you planning on informing me of that decision?″
Hutchins called out, ″Twenty seconds to the pickup point, Captain.″
″Captain,″ Collins implored.
Markov ignored her and spoke again into the comm. ″I assume you have a plan, Doctor Tybalt?″
″Of course, Captain,″ Tybalt responded. ″I'm utilizing a HES as we speak. Depressurizing the cargo bay now – ″
″Confirmed,″ Hutchins said.
″ – and once the doors open, I'll use the energy cables to tow it inside. I explained it once before. The radiation levels ought to be well within safe exposure limits for the HES and for the ship. There's not a thing to worry about.″
″Sir,″ Hutchins said, ″now approaching pickup point.″
″Ease the ship into a level float,″ Markov replied. ″Angle the bow so the cargo bay is facing the artifact.″
Collins looked up at the theater screen: the artifact was there, an obsidian gleam, a shining bright arrowhead, tilting to one side surrounded by multiple flecks of black light, bits of shrapnel that had probably once been a part of whatever the artifact itself had been. There were grooves that she could see, criss-crossing over the surface of the object, and for a moment she swore she saw the object's surface rippling. A trick of the light. Had to be. There was an instant pull she felt towards it, and she wondered why she hadn't taken a look at it on the observation deck before, but now understood why the doctor so desperately wanted a closer look at the goddamn thing. It was gorgeous; it was also impossible.
″Doctor,″ the Captain said, ″we're in place. I want your word that you've thought this all through and that you're not going into this half-cocked.″
″You have my word.″ The doctor's voice was dead serious. ″I won't jeopardize the ship or the crew, Captain. Only myself.″
It was enough to convince the captain, apparently. ″Proceed with your plan. I'll be monitoring your progress from the bridge closely. Keep your frequency open. Markov, out.″ He switched back to MacConnel's line. ″Mac, this is the captain. We have a problem.″ The captain quickly looked over at Laguardia. ″Get a HES and get down to the cargo bay now. This is going to get sticky and it's going to happen fast.″
Laguardia nodded and spun towards the bridge door.
″What's going on?″ Mac said through the comm.
″Mac, how can we get inside the cargo bay while the bay doors are open?″
″Don't Christing tell me the science bitch is doing something stupid,″ Mac pleaded.
″You're on an open line, Chief,″ the captain gently reminded him. Collins felt that the engineer's commentary was quite warranted given the situation, but she wasn't the captain. ″Access to the cargo bay. What can we do?″
″The ductwork betweendecks can access the cargo bay,″ Mac said quickly. ″The individual junctions can be sealed off from the rest of the ductwork, so it would just be a matter of crawling in and not getting sucked into space once the duct was open into the bay.″
″Sergeant Laguardia is pulling on a HES and is headed down there to act as Doctor Tybalt's backup. It might be necessary.″
″Oh, fucking wonderful.″ Mac coughed.
″Sir,″ Hutchins said. ″We're in position. The cargo bay doors are opening.″
Here we go, Collins thought. It looked like she was going to get the wild ride that she'd been promised after all.
***
CHAPTER VII.
The cargo bay doors pulled to the sides and Catherine Tybalt was treated to the greatest view she'd ever seen. If only it wasn't being filtered through the holodisplay of the HES. The stars through the wet orange haze of the chromosphere were cobalt diamonds with halos of green amber. There were no colors to describe the way that the tender fingers of the Sun looked as reflected in the gleam of the artifact's black marble skin; it was gold, it was burgundy, it was fuchsia, it was all of the above and yet none. Glittering sparkleshards surrounded the jagged, crystalline tip of the artifact, crackling like fireworks, dancing like fairy ballerinas reflecting the fury of the Sun behind the ship. She wished that there was sound, some noise of some kind, to complete the visual that she was seeing, but the vacuum of space denied her and all she could hear was her own quickened breathing, sharp gasps of glee and delight as she saw her prize hovering just within reach.
Tybalt walked along the lowest level of the cargo bay. The mag locks on the soles of the HES boots kept her grounded as she moved towards the bay door opening. Both energy cables were located across from each other, one on the bottom floor, the other above her on the ceiling. Already the Geiger counter was going wild with a furious ratcheting noise as it recorded the radiation in the area. She turned it off. She knew that there was a lot of radiation; she didn't need some fucking glorified alarm clock to remind her and distract her at the same time.
She came to the cable base closest to her. It needed priming. She worked over the controls quickly but assuredly, making sure the cable charge was at full output. Once she'd made sure that one was in place, Tybalt deactivated the mag boots and kicked off towards the ceiling, flipping over so that she could reactivate the boots feet-first. Then she prepped the second base and walked along the ceiling and down the wall to the far side of the cargo bay, where the energy cable control panel was located on a platform in the corner of the bay, next to one of the radiation scrubbers. At the control panel she booted up the cable systems and aimed the bases at the artifact. It had only taken a minute and a half. She was making good time. In the corner of her helmet's display she saw the radiation counter ticking off higher numbers, continuing to escalate. If the Geiger audio was still on, it would probably sound like a cacophony of cockroaches, clamoring about. Last thing she needed.
She touched the suit's wristpad. ″Kerrick, do you read me?″
″Loud and clear, Doctor.″ Kerrick's voice was unsteady and full of unease. Goddamn girl was probably wringing her wrists together. Kerrick could be such a girl.
″Have Straub stand by to bypass the decontamination systems, it's getting hot in here.″ It was no exaggeration, either. She felt sweat building in her armpits and tricking down her back. And it wasn't just from the thermal temp, either: the radiation was causing a whole hell of a lot of it.
″Doctor, this is Straub.″ The signal faded in and out for a moment. ″ – cryption codes in the system. It's seriously encoded. I'm going to need a few minutes to crack it.″
″Use a Bourdain spike,″ Tybalt said, activating the energy cables. A bead of sweat ran down her forehead to her cheek, and she wanted desperately to wipe it away. It was getting hotter quicker than she'd calculated. This was not good.
″Like I just carry – around? Doctor – need to hur – trying to find – ″ The audio was scratching in and out. Pretty soon the amount of radiation in the bay would be too much for the paltry communications between the HES and the portable comm with her team.
″Make it happen!″ she shouted, trying to be heard over the static as she aligned the cable bases to the artifact and pressed TOW on the holo controls. ″Repeat! Cut through the encryption codes and activate the decontamination systems! Hurry!″ Tracks of sweat ran over and down her face, her whole body. She felt as if her skin was crying.
Straub's response was all garbled static.
Come on, she thought. From the cable bases, twin beams of white energy fired and snaked around the artifact. Each beam was a braided strand of magnetic positrons, woven together like the proteins in a spider's silk. The beams roped around and around the surface of the artifact until the matching connector cable found each other and held, and Tybalt dragged her finger across the holo to retract the energy cables.
Above her, the cargo bay remained still. The decontaminatio
n systems were still off. Come on, Straub, she thought. Fingers of lightheadedness wormed their way through her system. There was too much radiation. She needed to finish this and get the hell out while there was still time.
The radiation scrubbers were synced to her wristpad. She touched the pad with her free hand and activated them. A strange sensation coated her as green fingers of anti-radiation sprayed outward, and as they did she immediately saw that they were not the localized firing position of field-stream; they were spread outward in a wide-burst pattern. Fucking Straub must have changed them back. The son of a bitch! Now she was exposed to an overexposure of both radiation and anti-radiation. The protection of the HES wouldn't do shit against that combination. It would be like pouring ice cold water over superheated glass.
The artifact was almost inside the cargo bay. The lack of inertia could do the rest. She reached for the button to turn off the energy beams, just let the artifact coast inside, but she couldn't see. Thick blackness came in heavy at the peripheral of her vision and there was nothing for her to do but flail about, trying to find the button blindly. Radiation sickness was starting to course through her system. An alarm went off inside her helmet, warning her that her heartbeat was erratic. Fuck that. She needed to turn the beams off. She needed –
Her arm went numb. She couldn't feel her feet. Her body was swaying back and forth listlessly, and all she could do was try and form words that wouldn't come. ″Strah,″ she said, trying to say Straub's name, get him to listen, to understand, ″Strah. Strah.″
″Doct – ″ Straub's voice cut through the static for a moment, but then returned to noise.
Her lips felt far away. She felt like she was melting. The temperature inside the suit, radiation and thermals, felt like boiling. She was boiling. An egg. Dying. Fainting.
″Straaaaaaaaaaahh.″
″ – octor – ″
She blacked out.
***
″Take this,″ Straub said, and he held the communicator out for Kerrick to take. When she did, he returned to the holo controls for the decontamination systems override. He'd found the panel just off to the left of the cargo bay door, and after a little fiddling with the mainframe network branches he’d found the subsystem he needed, but the encryption systems were tighter than his own clenched ass at the moment. Straub felt sweat roll over and down his cheek and he ignored it; if he could just fool the lockout protocol into thinking his access was level seven instead of one, he could do this. Everything was coming back to him, just a little slowly was all. It had been years since he'd tried anything like this. Years. Once upon a time this would have been a piece cake, and if he had all the time in the world he could get it and it would be no problem. That was something he didn't have if Tybalt's last communication had been any indication. He had no time. Only stress, and that was making him frantic.
″A Bourdain spike,″ he muttered. ″Because I brought my spare hacker kit with me.″
″Stephen, hurry up! Something's wrong!″ Kerrick's voice had hit a high shrill note that was grating heavy on his nerves, diminishing his ability to work the board. Swear to god, if she didn't lower her voice or just simply shut the fuck up, there was no way he was going to get this working.
The protocol systems threw up another block. If he could get around this one, maybe...
″Stephennnn!″
″Sydney!″ he shouted back. ″I can't fucking do this if you keep doing that! Please!″ Honestly! The woman devolved into a screaming toddler under pressure! He wiped sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand as he tried another breach through the protocol block. Then something occurred to him: why the hell was he trying the backdoor route? He reached into the pocket of his jumpsuit and retrieved the personal comm that the captain had slipped him.
″What are you doing?″ Kerrick asked, bewildered.
″Markov,″ the comm said.
″Sir, it's Straub.″ He ignored Kerrick. ″I need you to override the decontamination systems in the cargo bay and activate the scrub cycle.″
″What are you doing?″ Kerrick repeated. She looked aghast. ″Where did you get that?″
Straub continued to ignore her. Something was wrong and she was unraveling and he needed to just work through it. ″Captain?″
″I read you, Straub, but that won't do a damn bit of good for Doctor Tybalt. We know she's in there, and the decontaminant won't accomplish anything until we can get the cargo bay doors closed.″
″But it will stave off the amount of radiation being introduced into the cargo bay enough so that the amounts don't cross the lethal threshold,″ Straub explained. ″Captain, I can't get in contact with Doctor Tybalt any longer, which means the amount of rads are blocking the comms. If you don't override the decontamination system now she could be dead in minutes!″
″Are you working for him? For the captain?″ Kerrick was pointing accusatorily, her hand shaking. She was crying. She was a wreck. Good god, Kerrick had come completely unhinged.
Straub ignored her. ″Captain?″ he said again.
There was a moment's pause; he heard voices and movement on the other end, until finally the Captain came back. ″Decontamination systems are online. Radiation levels are starting to drop, but that doesn't mean you should do anything stupid. Stay where you are, Laguardia should be there any moment now.″
″Laguardia? That cunt?″ Kerrick's mouth hung open. Dribbles of snot were rolling from her tear-stained nostrils and drool spilled from her open lips in horror. Straub nearly recoiled at the sight of her; Kerrick was overwhelmed with whatever emotions were going through her head, which had to be legion, and if she didn't calm down soon she could have a seizure. At least, she looked like it. ″That cunt? Stephen what have you done? You've stabbed us in the back! You've double-crossed us!″ Her voice was pitching higher and higher.
″Sydney, listen to me, I'm trying to help the Doctor – ″
″You're going to ruin us!″ Kerrick ran forward and raised her own communicator above her head to bring it down on top of him, but she only made it a step before her head jerked back angrily and she choked on her own spit. Her eyes popped open in pain and she reached back, clawing at something, and Straub saw Laguardia, wearing a HES, her gloved fingers twined in Kerrick's hair. Laguardia frowned dispassionately and threw Kerrick forward: the scientist's forehead slammed into the bulkhead and she crumpled to the floor.
″You alright?″ Laguardia asked.
″Jesus,″ Straub whispered, staring down at Kerrick's crumpled form on the floor. ″She totally lost her shit.″
″Not totally. I am a cunt.″ Laguardia picked up her helmet off the floor and put it on. The face display came to life and her features were broadcast in holo across the surface; it displayed her stoic look perfectly. ″You stay here, wait for my signal.″
″What are you going to do?″ Straub asked.
The Sergeant didn't answer. Instead she found an access panel a few meters to the left of the cargo bay doors, punched in a code on the panel and a junction door slid open. Laguardia climbed up, wriggled into the junction and the panel slid shut behind her.
Straub looked down at Kerrick. What the hell had just happened?
***
Laguardia belly-crawled through the ductway towards the cargo bay junction. The panel that would open up into the bay was before her; all she had to do was get into position and close the one behind her and she would be all set.
Crunching herself up into a fetal position, Laguardia turned, found the control panel for the junction ports, and used it to seal the panel to her left. Once it closed, she braced herself for the decompression and opened the panel to the right. She felt the pull immediately; she activated the maglocks on her boots to hold her in position as the vacuum of space threatened her purchase. Fucking scientists and throwing themselves into trouble. As she waited for the pressure to equalize, Laguardia had to chuckle: she'd been right about the tension getting to the crew, but she wouldn't have suspected that i
t would be one of the research team. Kerrick sounded like she could use a few hours rest in a padded cell. Still, it felt nice to have knocked someone around. It released some of the goddamn tension that had been building.
The suction ended and Laguardia deactivated the magboots. She uncurled and floated down the remaining length of the ductway, her Geiger in the HES sounding radical alarm. The amounts were just under lethal, which was good, but not so good that she could afford to take her time. Emerging from the junction panel into the cargo bay, she saw Doctor Tybalt, swaying in place before the cable controls, held up by her magboots. Lucky. If they hadn't been on, the doctor might have accidentally floated into space already. Laguardia settled her feet on the wall above the junction and kicked hard, flying across the width of the bay to where Tybalt was.
Laguardia clicked her comm online. ″I see the Doctor. I'm headed her way now.″
″Get a move on,″ Captain Markov said. His voice was tinny and overlapped with static. ″We can't hold this position for much longer. Get the bay doors closed so we can get the hell out of this dive.″
″Acknowledged,″ she replied. She didn't need to be told twice. The heat in the cargo bay was demanding; outside the bay doors the flames of Sun angrily reached around the edges of the opening, clamoring to get in and cook them completely. Laguardia activated her boots again and landed next to Tybalt. The doctor's facial display showed that she was out cold. Or hot. Laguardia shook her head. She was already getting a little hard-boiled. Time to get the shit back into the frying pan and then out of the fucking fire.
She turned to the cable controls and looked up at the artifact hovering just between the door opening, held in place by the still-activated energy cables. She reached out to the cable controls intending to toss the damn thing back out into space and shut the doors, but she held back. Logic said get rid of it, but at the same time, the captain had given orders to pull this thing in and recover it. And the doctor here had nearly died trying to pull it in.