“I apologize for my rudeness. But, damn!” She slammed her hand down on the casing of the machine. “All of that and it’s unidentifiable!”
“Not just unidentifiable . . . it’s like nothing’s there. The machine didn’t even reg-ister the walls of the chamber.” His expression grew considering. “It’s as if the artifact absorbed the light. But to do so this completely . . . it’s impossible for none to have gotten past it.”
“Malfunction?”
“Not one I’ve ever seen, but there’s one way to find out.”
Captain had ordered everyone to their stations. But she had to know. She could always double-time it to the command.
O’Neal opened the chamber and reached for the artifact. He hissed sharply, as if in pain. His body arched and shuddered. The look of terror in his eyes sent panic through Yakata. It must be the prosthetic. She remembered the static that had clung to her hand when she’d touched the artifact earlier.
Yakata yanked an equipment bag toward her and rapidly rifled through it. Tucked in the bottom was a set of insulated gauntlets. She donned them and braced herself against the workstation. With all her weight behind the effort, she hauled on the obelisk until it left his grasp. It came away with the sound of metal scraping metal. Yakata landed in a heap across the compartment, the obelisk heavy on her chest. O’Neal collapsed across the table, greenish static arching and popping along the length of his arm. He shook his head and groaned. After a moment, he leveled a glare toward Yakata.
Perhaps it was the sparks, or perhaps just the light, but as he stared at her in silence, it seemed his eyes reflected the green hue. He slowly stood and stalked across the room to where she lay. When he reached out his hand, her eyes went wide, expecting pain.
She searched his face for some clue as the man remained silent. His eyes darkened and she couldn’t read the swirl of emotions dancing through them. She shivered. He closed his eyes with a sigh. When he opened them all she saw was impatience in their green depth. Green eyes? But . . .
“The gauntlets . . . ”
She yanked them off and held them up, never taking her eyes from him. He donned the gear and lifted the artifact from her chest. She gasped as breath flooded back into her lungs to full capacity. Damn, that thing was heavy, she swore to herself.
O’Neal turned his back to her. He deposited the obelisk on a metal tray on the table and reinserted the control element he’d used to test the machine initially. The second reading of the steel bar was identical to the first.
Without a word, Yakata returned the artifact to its storage locker. Using her body as a shield, she keyed the lock with her personal code.
She turned and found O’Neal staring at her. Yakata carefully slipped past him and hurried from the compartment, trying to ignore the faint odor of scorched latex lingering in her nostrils.
Personal Log Entry: 42.05.18 - 1250hrs, Dunn, K.
McKay’s systems just flatlined. Everything’s back up, but talk about freaking out. What the hell is going on?
Haven’t felt like this since I was four and Da took me to the reptile house at the Bronx Zoo. I zoomed all over that place. Couldn’t stay still . . . until I came to the king cobra. Something had pissed it off. It mantled and swayed three feet high in the air, right up close to the glass. It kept up a hiss, low and menacing. Don’t know how long I stood there watching its tongue flicker in and out above me, but I couldn’t move. Not even when it struck. Lightning-fast it slammed into the glass. To this day, I swear its fangs left long grooves in the surface, dripping with venom.
I still remember the stench of terror. Right now it’s strong in my nose . . . a hundred times stronger than it was when I was four. And I have that feeling again . . . like death is hovering above my head and I’m not sure if the glass is going to hold.
Damn . . . Captain just called duty stations.
Command Deck: 42.05.18 - 1310hrs
The silence was tangible as Yakata hauled herself through the command deck hatch from the McKay’s main shaft. The passage ran the length of the ship and was fitted out with a ladder that doubled as a track for the slow-moving utility lift. The track could either be climbed or used for crewmen to pull themselves along, depending on the ship’s attitude. She had scaled it at record speed, but apparently she hadn’t been quick enough.
“First Officer Ushimi . . . the comm system may have been affected by the anom-aly. My order to report to duty stations doesn’t seem to have reached all compart-ments.” The captain’s words were even and void of tension. His gaze was not. The look he gave her was harder than the artifact she’d left in the lab. “With this sudden glitch, I’m concerned that diagnostics might not show up all malfunctions. I’ll need you to conduct an on-site inspection of every comm station and hood on the McKay.”
Yakata flinched on the inside. “Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir.”
Captain Kinney was known for his swift and fitting discipline. Actually, she’d gotten off easy; she should have been the first on the deck, not counting those who were already there.
There was a sound beneath her feet. She stepped aside to clear the hatch. An acrid aroma preceded Dunn as he clambered to his post.
“Ah, very good.” The Captain’s smile was not very pleasant, though his tone pretended to be. “Crewman Dunn will assist you.”
Drive Section Service Module: 42.05.18 - 1700hrs
This was it. The final comm station. Yakata sighed as she pulled out the check-list and ran the last test. Carefully, she removed the housing and used a maglite and a telescoping mirror to visually inspect the wiring. Then she tested the connections. Finally, she closed the unit and toggled the activator.
“Dunn . . . ”
“Go ahead . . . ”
“Drive section comm inspection complete, how are you coming with the Engineering unit?”
“System’s green to go.” Dunn’s voice was even but Yakata detected an edge to it. It was barely perceptible, but his breath was coming out in quick, shallow huffs. She waited for him to report something catastrophic, but he remained silent.
“Okay, that was the last one. Wait for me at the main shaft.” Yakata cut the link and toggled the activator again. “Command deck . . . ”
“Go ahead.” The captain’s voice came through the relay sharp and precise. Yakata winced. He would remain on deck until she relieved him. That was part of what drove home the lesson. Her failure to follow orders affected everyone, right up to the captain, whom she respected more than anyone alive. Nothing, short of a fatality, would have made her feel worse about her lapse in protocol.
“On-site inspection of the communications system complete,” Yakata responded, keeping her voice neutral.
“Acknowledged. I’ll be waiting to hear your report.”
“Yes, Sir.” Yakata groaned as she cut the link.
With haste, she secured her maintenance kit on her hip, slid the maglite into its belt loop, and left the compartment. The sensors flanking the door registered her exit. The drive room went dark and the dim, stand-by lights of the causeway brightened. After nearly a decade of service, she generally took the lighting system for granted. Today she newly appreciated the comfort it represented. Even without the recent system’s failure, Yakata was uneasy. Her nerves vibrated beneath the surface of her skin and her eyes ached from trying to penetrate the dark spaces around her. She’d yet to spy anything staring back. Her skin crawled though as she imagined a thousand pairs of eyes creeping forward into the now-darkened room behind her. Clenching her teeth, she cocked her head from side to side until the ver-tebrae ceased to pop. To her left, she thought she heard the faintest sound from somewhere near the pressurized tanks. Probably a loose valve. She made note of the section where she suspected the leak, and set off for the main shaft.
Dunn was not at the rendezvous.
Toggling the activator on her comm hood, the barest edge of anger sharpened her tone. “Crewman Dunn, report . . . ”
Silence.
“
Dunn, what is your location?” Still no response.
What in the world was going on? Their personal comm hoods were the first to be tested. Both had operated fine. She went to the comm screen in the main shaft wall. With a couple of jabs she input the protocol that instructed the system to display the current location of all crewmembers.
She glanced down the list of names and locations: Captain Kinney and Crewman Suarez - Command deck; Crewmen Jones and Chapman - Environmental Control Compartment; Specialist O’Neal - Temporary Science Lab; Crewmen Pittman, Jenks, and Gunter - Mess hall; and Crewman Dunn . . .
Port lateral airlock! Yakata powered down the display and set off back the way she came at a hard clip.
Bad enough they’d both drawn discipline duty, being late back was going to make it impossible for the captain to gloss over this time. She tried her comm hood again, activating it with such force she could feel the surrounding fabric pull. “Crewman Dunn . . . respond . . . ”
Nothing. She put on a little more speed through the shaft. A tight sensation took root in her gut. She tried again, “Come on, Dunn, talk to me. What’s going on?” No answer. The airlocks came into sight. Even in the dim light of the corridor, she could see a dark smear on the floor.
“Dunn! Damnit, Karl! Answer me!”
Yakata closed the last few meters. Dropping to one knee, she touched a finger to the slick spot. It came away bright red, the sweet, metallic tang unmistakable.
What happened? And where was Dunn? Sensors indicated the port airlock, but both chambers were dark. There should be lights. Lighting was automatic. She stepped to the side of the hatch portal and reached for her maglite. The high-powered beam cut through the black pit beyond the glass.
Yakata gasped. For a second she could do nothing but stand there and stare at the horror revealed by the light: an EVA suit sprawled against the far wall, blood a solid curtain across the faceplate of the helmet.
A burst of static reminded her that the comm hood was still active, on stand-by. The sound was enough to snap her out of the shock.
“Command deck . . . ” She was surprised how low and calm her voice remained. The rest of her was trembling. “Command deck, acknowledge . . . .”
The only response was another burst of static.
She moved to the comm unit in the corridor wall and tried again. Again static hissed and crackled through the corridor, echoing through her comm hood. She moved back to the airlock door.
The beam of light glimmered on the helmet like sunlight through rubies. She could make out nothing beyond the faceplate. Swallowing hard, she swept the airlock with light as far as she could from side to side. Nothing. Not even more smears. No movement. Still, something did this. Yakata was acutely aware of the blind spots to either side of the hatch.
She punched in the sequence to open the airlock. The keypad didn’t respond. She tightened her grip on the maglite. It was awkward manipulating the manual release one-handed, but, with determination, she managed it. The hatch opened smoothly. Out wafted the heavy, copper-penny scent of blood and something else, something bitter and sharp. The lights still didn’t engage.
“Dunn, can you respond?”
She peered into the room, her head just past the collar as she flashed the light into the corner to the right of the door. Nothing.
As she brought her light around to the other side, the comm hood gave a more energetic hiss. She flinched back at the unexpected sound. A blur of motion from the left caught her eye. Metal slammed against metal. From the shadows, hoarse breathing punched up into a roar. She now recognized the acrid odor in the air. She’d smelt it on the command deck, when Dunn came up the hatch.
There wasn’t time to call out to him. There was only time to move. An industrialgrade spanner crashed into the airlock door just millimeters away her head. Again, the weapon rose. She couldn’t continue to evade; the space was too restricted. She brought the maglite up to block the spanner’s descent and allowed her body to fall back upon the deck. The move cost her the maglite, which went spinning away, but her bones were intact.
She stared up into Dunn’s face. He was barely recognizable. His eyes were wide and wild, a long, bloody scratch marred his face, and sweat stood out in hard beads on his forehead. The rest of him was coated in blood. He did not seem to recognize her. She watched as a tremor ran through his body. No matter what had passed between them, she didn’t want to hurt him, not even to get away. She would, but she didn’t want to. She prayed he was coming out of it.
“Dunn . . . Karl, what happened to you?”
She held her breath. For a moment his pupils expanded. Recognition floated just beneath the surface. Then her comm hood hissed. His echoed in response. She had most of a second to watch him retreat behind the terror.
“Oh shit!” Yakata braced herself. This was going to hurt. Her only hope lay in the leverage of her position and her greater lower-body strength. The spanner came down full force. She dodged her torso as best she could, taking a glancing blow to her shoulder. Her left side went numb on impact. She wrapped herself around the spanner with her good arm and drew her legs up sharp. Snarling, she planted both feet in Dunn’s gut and shoved for all she was worth.
The weapon remained in her posession, though it was close. Dunn went flying. Yakata winced as he slammed against the lockers, landing awkwardly on the sprawled EVA suit. She bit her lip at the fresh smear of blood across the dented metal. Bit harder against the impulse to go to him. Instead, she rolled to her feet and slammed the airlock hatch. Using the spanner, she wedged the door closed as best she could. It wouldn’t hold long. She headed for the main shaft at a hard clip. Within the first five strides, the pain in her left arm triggered a grey haze across her vision. Gasping, she stopped running immediately.
Yakata blinked furiously, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths, until the haze went away. Behind her she could hear banging, furious and violent. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she loosened her web belt and slipped the wrist of her damaged arm into the gap between belt and pants, angled across her stomach. She hissed with the pain and the sounds from the airlock increased in in-tensity.
She forced thought of Dunn out of her mind and tightened the belt against her wrist, immobilizing the damaged arm as best she could. Once again, she set off, this time at a gentler, swinging lope. Her gut clenched. As she left the cacophony of the drive section behind, the faint sound of a warning klaxon could be heard elsewhere on the ship.
Yakata toggled her comm activator again. “Command deck . . . Come in, Captain Kinney.” Not even a hiss sounded in her ear. “Deck officer, respond.” No answer; and her comm went dead, completely dead.
Abandoning her gentle pace, Yakata ran full out for the transport. The lift was slow, but one-handed, she would be even slower hauling herself up the ladder to the command deck. Her eyes locked on the lift mooring as it came into sight. The knots in her shoulders eased the slightest increment. The platform was there. She added another burst of speed.
Her steps faltered as she drew close. Something was not right. The lift wasn’t seated properly in the track. It hovered about six inches off the mooring. She stopped where she was and tried to peer beneath it.
How had she missed the thin, crimson rivulets snaking across the deck? The fine, meandering tributaries flowing from the crushed body of Crewman Mory Chapman? Yakata fought the urge to be sick.
Was Dunn responsible? Was this why he wasn’t at the rendezvous? Why he didn’t answer her hails? Her throat spasmed and she had to swallow hard as she moved closer to examine the mechanism.
The body was tangled in the power couplings, bits of it pulped by the gears. Even if she could get the lift into motion, it would shred what was left of him. Only his face was untouched. His expression would haunt her.
A sound echoed up the corridor. Cursing, Yakata re-tightened her belt against her injured arm and climbed onto the lift. Her added force caused the platform to drop another inch. There was a sickening crack as so
mething organic gave. She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes, emptied her mind of everything, and started up the lift. Before it had gone more than a few meters she slumped to her knees.
Central Shaft, Upper Utility Lift Mooring: 42.05.18 - 2100hrs
The lift locked into its upper mooring. Before her was the command deck hatch. She should get up. She had to report. The captain was waiting for them. Them. Not just her. Reality came rushing back. Yakata yanked herself to her feet with her good arm and gripped the ladder-track for balance. The hatch was open and the deck lights were at standby dim.
Every nerve in her body pricked. The command deck was unmanned. It was never unmanned. Leaning into the ladder, Yakata braced herself. She released her grip with her good hand and reached down into her maintenance kit. Near the bottom, she found the telescoping mirror she’d used earlier. Taking the reflective end carefully be-tween her teeth, she angled the head and drew out the handle as far as it would go. She then edged the tool around the hatch. There were no bodies on the deck, and there were none walking around, either. Not that she could see, anyway.
The lights flared higher as she pulled herself through the hatch. She squinted against the sudden brilliance. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Pulling the hatch closed, she keyed the lock with her personal code. Dunn wouldn’t corner her again. Her shoulder throbbed in agreement. With a grimace, she settled into the com-mand chair. The display in front of her was completely lit up. Alerts flashed over nearly every inch of the ship, a confusing dance of flood, fire, and vacuum. Sometimes all three at once in the same compartment. How much of it was real?
Clearing the screen, she prayed nothing would go critical before she could get this sorted out. She ran diagnostics, keying in commands one-handed. Half of the alerts disappeared. Next, she toggled the comm on the console. Nothing. Not even static. She had to try, though.
Breach the Hull Page 13