by CK Burch
There was a weapons locker just down the corridor and Collins began retrieving supplies for Udeh, but Straub just watched. This felt bad. This felt real bad. He couldn't put his finger on why, but the thought of Udeh in the suit with a weapon bothered him. Maybe it was seeing what Kerrick had done. Sydney. No, Kerrick. He reminded himself to think of her clinically, detached. Any sort of familiarity or bonding attitude toward her at this point could get himself killed if he wasn't careful. After all, she'd murdered two orderlies in cold blood, a clear psychotic break. Straub watched as Udeh stood there, still but restless, wondering what was going on inside the man's mind, wondering if and when the panic would take over again and how it would affect him.
God. He felt paranoid. But it was probably the only way they were going to survive this scenario, by being paranoid.
Stephen.
Sarah's voice again. The enunciation was perfect, beautiful, exactly how she'd sounded in real life. Straub was beginning to savor it, which frightened him. He didn't want to see her. How would she look in his mind? Beautiful and perfect as he remembered her? Or the ragged, flesh-torn corpse that he'd had to identify on Mars Outpost? Jesus, he could see her now, reaching for him, walking up behind him with her arms stretched outwards, bony fingers laced with hanging tendons, aching for his skin, his neck, to bring him back to the world of the dead with her. It was frightening. And so fucking close. Where had she been the last time? In the elevator shaft? Now she sounded like she was down the corridor. Straub turned around helplessly, just to look even though he didn't want to, and he saw fieldlights coming down the hall towards them. He blinked; they were real.
″Collins,″ he said.
The officers both looked up in surprise. ″Hello?″ Collins shouted. ″Who's there?″
″Commander? Is that you?"″
Captain Gordon Markov's voice came from the source of the light and Straub couldn't help but grin with relief.
***
Markov had been in the lift headed towards medical when the EMP hit. He'd told Mac that he was going for supplies, but he was really going for Fleur – he needed to make sure she was okay. Was that rational? Maybe not. As ship's captain he could justify it by ensuring the safety of his crew, but deep down he knew it was only her he was going for. Because in his mind he saw those fucking beasts crawling up the vents towards medical, wrapping over and around Rene's face and taking her, driving her like they had driven Decker, and the thought was too much for him.
Then the EMP had hit. He'd known it for what it was immediately, and then as the lift stopped and his HES shut down he realized that they were in a lot more trouble than a simple bioorganic infestation. This was an attack. Was it as intelligent as it appeared? No; those things were primal, organized but in a bestial, animal way. He'd had too much time to think while the HES was offline and then in reboot mode. How long had it taken? Five, ten minutes at most? Markov had thought of a lot of things. He thought of Mac and everyone down in engineering, all of them wearing suits – or, really, Mac and whoever was left. From the sound of things, it seemed that the bay was swarmed over with a hell of a lot more of the creatures than he'd seen initially. Which meant that the artifact was still producing, and that if he didn't find a way to get it off of his ship there was the potential for the whole of Icarus to be overrun.
As soon as his suit had come back online, he'd tried to contact the bridge, get a hold of Burke, but there was no response. Then he'd tried Mac to the same effect; nothing. Damn comm systems. The ship itself was still out of power; no backup generators. This was what Markov had been contemplating, and also what his next steps would be, when he found lights moving ahead in the medical corridor and it had been Collins who had shouted from around the corner.
They exchanged stories and theories about the creatures. Doctor Straub had seemed the most worried about their purpose, heading for the engines, thinking that they were scouts or ″feelers″ for the star-eater they had seen inside the artifact. That was something Markov's mind just couldn't grasp. A star-eater. He'd dived into enough chromospheres to understand the size and magnitude of a star, and to think that something could devour a celestial object like that – no, he couldn't wrap around it. All he could do was accept it, especially when he saw Collins's face when Straub described the creature. She looked pale, frightened, like she'd seen it and her mind still couldn't wrap around it either. It was truth enough for Markov.
″We need a plan,″ Straub said once they'd caught up to date.
″It's simple enough: if the EMP fried the backup generators, we have to get down to engineering and reboot the core manually,″ Markov said. He felt a tug on his heart towards the psychology ward just down the corridor – Fleur was there, he knew it, he needed to get to her, find her, see her. ″Collins, you, Straub and Udeh head down there and get the core online. I'll search the rest of medical for anyone still lingering here and for any crawlers that might have dispersed out after the engines turned off. For all we know they're looking for new sources of heat or bodies to use.″
″You're not coming with us?″ Collins looked uneasy about that prospect.
″Once I'm done here I'll turn upwards to the bridge, connect with Burke and the rest of the bridge crew. You get the core online and I'll access the bridge control to figure out where the hell we are and how far we've been drifting. Once the engines cut out there couldn't have been any reverse thrust to hold our position. God knows how far or fast we've been flying.″
Collins nodded, but still looked squeamish at the idea. Poor girl had been through a lot, seen far more than she'd needed to on this mission, and fuck, when was her last deep space ride? Training at the academy? She'd been tied up at Outpost 12 for so long she probably didn't remember what different constellations were out there. She was a good officer, but she was closing in on the breaking point now. She needed some direction. Markov glanced down the corridor towards psych, wondered how he could arrange it to go after Fleur and still go with them down to engineering, but Udeh piped in.
″You search here,″ he said, ″I'll go to the bridge on my own and ready the bridge controls. Collins, once you and Straub get the core back up and running, I'll be able to work the access panels and monitor your progress. Give you a heads up if you need direction.″
Straub looked concerned. ″Will you be able to make it on your own?″
Udeh smiled. Markov had seen that smile many times over. There was sweat coming down Udeh's face, evident even through the facial display on the HES, and he looked like he was clenching his jaw even as he smiled, but once upon a time Udeh had been a first officer with a damnable adventurous streak in him. Stunts, wild rides, all with coolness and calm confidence. It was there now, even as he was fighting with his own phobia, and that was enough for Markov to think that maybe they would make it out of this alright.
″Don't worry about me, Doctor,″ Udeh said. ″You just get to the core and I'll get this place back up and running. The sooner you do that, the sooner I take this goddamn suit off. That's my goal. I hope you won't mind a little personal stake in that.″
″Once we've established our position, we set up a marker buoy for salvage retrieval, then get us and the rest of the crew on as many shuttles as it takes and get the hell off of this ship while we have the opportunity. Agreed?″ Markov didn't want to appear anxious, but after what had happened to Gaines – Jesus, that poor bastard didn't even know what had happened to him. After knowing that, Markov needed even more to see Fleur, see if she was okay.
Collins nodded slowly. Straub held out his hand and shook Markov's. ″Good luck to us all, sir,″ Straub said. ″Just in case: it's been a pleasure serving aboard with you.″
Markov smiled back. ″Save that for when we're in a shuttle and flying away from here. Right now our main priority is getting the fuck out of here.″ He reached out and patted the wall. ″Sorry, baby.″
″She's been a good ship,″ Udeh said.
″You both sound like sentimental old men,�
�� Collins said. ″The ship is salvageable. We'll come back for her.″
″That's for someone else to worry about,″ Markov replied. ″This is my final flight, and for now I'd like to worry about surviving it and getting home. Now, we ready?″
They all nodded. Markov shook hands with Udeh. ″Good luck, Captain,″ they both said to each other. Then Markov was left alone in the corridor.
There were too many goddamn thoughts running through his brain as he walked down the hall. Plenty of them sentimental, plenty of them horrific. It was Fleur that was on his mind primarily, and that was what bothered him. It was difficult to focus. Gaines had succumbed to the radiation effects without even knowing it, had turned into a useless lump of flesh spewing his own filth everywhere. Was that the ultimate effect of the radiation? Christ, maybe it was even more of an attack than any of them were considering. The radiation lowered all their defenses to the point where there was no defense, and then these crawlers came through, took over bodies, and then – Christ. A star-eater. And to think he'd nearly blown the goddamn artifact out of the airlock and into the Sun's orbit. Well, he'd tried. It wouldn't leave the ship. But why? Was it rooted in place? There were too many variables, too many thoughts that he couldn't sort out. He shook his head. He had to stay focused. He had to stay clear.
The darkness and silence of medical was overwhelming. At least in the lift he'd been closed in, but here he sensed the lifelessness of the rest of the ship. It was disheartening. Markov paused in the infirmary for a moment; no one there. The other nurses must have been somewhere else. But where? Two in medbay like Straub and the others reported. All medical staff had their quarters on the med deck for faster response, so maybe they were in their rooms, still wondering what the fuck had happened on the ship, unaware that they were breathing stale air that was running out with each breath, unable to get out. But that didn't seem likely. They must have heard the quarantine. They must have scrambled across the deck, preparing to receive, standard operating procedure. But where were they? Markov passed the infirmary and continued down the hallway towards the supply bay.
Suspended blood gleamed in the distance of his lights. Markov stopped. He made sure that his rifle had plenty of ammunition – the ammo counter read plenty enough. He held it up to bear and continued, slowly, moving as silently as magboot clamping noises would allow. Each step he took, he winced. Still he continued, step by step. The doorway to the supply bay was open, the source of the blood particles. They were streaming out, like a fresh wound was spurting. A body floated into his view in the hall, one of the other orderlies, and Markov instantly knew exactly what had happened to all of the nurses on the ship: Kerrick.
Markov remained in place. ″Doctor Kerrick!″ he shouted. There was no response. ″Doctor Kerrick, it's Captain Markov. I know you're in the supply bay. I would appreciate it if you would respond to me, please.″
Still no response. Was she really in there, or was he just hoping she was? That body hadn't just floated out on its own into the corridor; it looked like it had been pushed. Someone was in there.
He took a few steps closer.″Doctor Kerrick, I have a pulse rifle in my hands and it's aimed toward the door. I would prefer not to shoot you, despite what you've done to the nurses, but if you don't respond to me I may be forced to.″
″They wanted to take me home,″ Kerrick said. She was in the supply bay. Her voice was slight and muffled, maybe buried underneath something. Okay. Markov ignored the trickle of sweat down his temple and he took another two steps closer. He was maybe five yards away from the open door, no way to see in unless he peeked around the corner. Okay. He could work this. Kerrick couldn't have anything worse than a throwing weapon, maybe a plasma scalpel. He could take her easily, but had she seen Fleur? Had she maybe killed her already? And if she hadn't, would she go and do so? No. He imagined not, not if he played his cards right. Instinct was telling him to leave her be, they were all just going to abandon ship anyway once they got the core back online and a shuttle up and running. Let Kerrick do what she wanted. There were stronger threats still yet aboard the ship. First he needed to get her talking and out of that supply bay. Diplomacy with a crazy woman. Okay. He remembered his marriage.
″Is that why you killed them, Doctor? Self-defense?″
″Yes. You understand.″
Another couple of steps. She didn't sound crazy. Very rational in fact, but he saw the body of the orderly floating still in front of him and he could quite clearly see that she was, at the very least, violent. He gripped the trigger guard instinctively. He had an urge to just burst in there now and shoot her for her crimes, but he didn't want to waste the ammo. He might need it for the creatures. ″Doctor, I'm not interested in taking you home. In fact, if you'd like to stay on the ship, that's quite alright with me. You can stay anywhere you'd like as long as you promise not to hurt anyone else. How does that sound?″
″So says the man with the gun.″
″I have the weapon because there's an alien infestation on board. I don't want to use it on you, Doctor, but I also don't want to end up like the nurses. You understand?″ Another couple of steps. Damn, he was practically giving his position away with each footfall. She would know exactly where he was. Markov tried to think ahead: what kind of medical tool could she have on her? What kind of reach? What could she do with it?
″You're lying to me, Captain. Do you expect me to believe that there's really an alien infestation on the ship? Something that hasn't been documented in twenty years of deep space exploration? Microbes, sure. But full on aliens. And you think I'm crazy.″
″I don't think you're crazy.″
″Then maybe you really are crazy.″
He stopped. Maybe five feet to the door. Kerrick was crazy enough to be sane, clinical. She was calling a perceived bluff, fighting against his rationality with her own. So what to do? ″You don't believe me. That's fine. I'm not about to argue the validity of my argument, Doctor, but the truth remains that I'm holding a rifle in my hands and I'm prepared to defend myself if I have to. You have my word as captain that you can stay on board as long as you'd like. Don't believe me about aliens? You can explore to your heart's content and find out for yourself. Now, I need to get some medical supplies for my crew. However I'm not going to go in there while you're still inside. I would like you to come out. Slowly. I promise I will not fire unless you give me a reason to do so.″ He waited. There was no response for a few moments, and he started to speak again when Kerrick's voice cut him to the bone.
″Who are you looking for, Captain?″
He froze. That caught him completely off guard. It was a little too goddamn intuitive. Or had she found Fleur? Oh god, if Kerrick had found her, had she killed her already? Did Fleur beg? Had she said his name in her last moments? Markov shook his head violently and blew out a large breath of air. He had to focus. He had to stop letting his mind wander away from the moment. All he had to do was let his guard down and –
″I'll take it from your silence, Captain, that you are looking for a particular someone. You're wasting your time.″ And then Kerrick slowly floated out from the doorway to the supply bay. Blood had been splashed against her clothes and her face, but across her face Kerrick had painted ritualistic lines, patterns, like some ghoulish fucking voodoo warpaint. Markov recoiled and took a step back, almost brought the rifle up to aim, but he checked himself at the last moment. It was just...Jesus, her hair was slicked back and caked in dried blood. And he'd just made a deal with this stupid bitch. A violent, psychotic bitch. He hoped that they got off the ship fast.
″Why am I wasting my time?″ he asked. If she said that she killed everyone here, he was going to shoot her anyways. If she really had killed Fleur, he was going to just shoot the fucking bitch.
″There's no one else here,″ Kerrick said. ″Gaines, Udeh, the nurses. That's all. I left the captain alone because he was kind. He didn't want to take me home. I'm very grateful for that.″
Markov was confu
sed. ″No one else here?″
″No. No one.″ Her eyes were clear and focused.
She didn't seem to be bluffing. She seemed to be all too rational. But if no one else was here, where was Doctor Fleur? Markov concentrated on how perfectly sane Kerrick's eyes were. He would find Fleur. He had to focus now. ″All right then. I'm going to let you go now. The rest of us are going to leave this ship but you are welcome to stay aboard if that's what you really want.″
Now she flinched. A clear facial tick right at the corner of her mouth. ″If I went with you, would I be going home?″
″Most likely.″
She swallowed. ″I think I'll stay here with your imaginary aliens.″ She smiled and bit her lip, white teeth even whiter and eerie against the crimson stained skin. ″Would you make me captain of the ship?″
″Ah. Yes. When I'm gone, you will be the captain of the ship. As soon as I leave, the ship is yours.″
She giggled. Jesus, she sounded like a teenage girl. ″Captain Sydney Kerrick.″ She kept biting her lips in glee and fresh blood poured from it. ″We have a deal, Captain. Thank you for the ship. I'll trust you to leave as soon as possible.″ And with that she flipped over and caught the ceiling with her heels, seeming to run away on the ceiling for a moment before kicking forward and leaping upside-down along the hallway away from him. It was a gymnast's grace and speed that caught Markov off guard for a moment, and he had to wonder if she would have taken him down despite his suit and weapon. He couldn't remember if Kerrick had any zero g combat training. It didn't matter now.
Markov stepped inside the supply bay. There was a lot of blood floating about, and no way around it, so he walked through it and mentally crossed himself as he did. It felt like a kind of blasphemy, disrespecting the dead, but he needed to gather what he needed first and find Fleur. If she was here. What if Kerrick had been actually telling the truth? Or what if she'd been lying, and had killed Fleur? She'd guessed that he was looking for someone. What if she'd guessed at who it was?