aaribaud

This is the second installment of my SOS story, the first of which can be read here.

Aboard the spaceship Locust, Val and Sam have picked up what may be a distress call. Val has diverted course toward the source, and now Sam is about to go inspect the wreck.

Turned out the wreck was mostly intact, except its starboard engine had been torn off the hull and was trailing some ten thousand klicks behind. We’d missed it on the radar because it was hidden by the ship’s signature.

And the emergency broadcast? We traced it right back to the main antenna. Given the ship’s state, no wonder that blip was all it could put out.

I checked my gauges for the umpteenth time. I had enough for a couple hours of autonomy but that would probably be too short: this was a cruiser, with room for at least three hundred passengers and probably another fifty crew. The engine had ripped a fifth of the hull at the stern; enough that the chances of running into a surviving crew member were nil. But the bow, where the passengers usually were, looked pretty intact. Who knew, I might even find a dozen of them still alive.

Val interrupted my thoughts.

“Good news, Sam. The wreck’s got a Shabasch onboard computer, just like the Locust.”

“Gesundheit. What’s that mean?”

“... That we can communicate with it. I might even be able to download the ship’s log from here. But it will take quite a while. It's unusually sluggish.”

“Are you surprised? The ship took quite a hit.”

“I don’t know... The computer should be at the bow, far from the bulk of the damage. In any case, Hawking is close enough to power its solar panels. You should start by unlocking some of them.”

“Shouldn’t I take a peek inside first?”

“If they’ve survived so far, they can wait for another five minutes. Plus, it will be easier for you inside the ship if you can get some power back on. You should be able to reconnect at least two solar panels with rams. Not to mention, we’ll also be able to recharge faster from there.”

She was right — that’s the rule: the living feed on the dead. And the survivors, if there were any, probably didn’t give a shit if we diverted a few solar megawatts or tapped their propulsion fuel, seeing as there wasn’t a chance this wreck would ever fly again.

I exited through the Locust’s port maintenance hatch. Val had put two rams there for me. Fifteen seconds were enough for my suit’s thruster’s to bring me to the wreck; Val always did have a talent for tight manoeuvres. I found two solar panels, put the hydraulic rams in place and activated them. then I travelled along the hull till I found a usable airlock.

“OK Val, I found an access.” I forced open the casing of the airlock’s controls. “Everything’s green, but I’m reading an interior pressure of zero. I’m going to try to get inside. Also, the ship’s name is written on the airlock. The Scintillating. Cute, isn’t it?”

“Very. Place your relays evenly, I’d hate to lose you.”

“No problem. The door’s opening slowly… ah, shit.”

At first I tried to get out of the way, but then DuRes kicked in, so I grabbed the spacesuit by the collar, dragged it back into the airlock, and secured it against a wall. I checked around for the dogtag. I was having a hard time pulling it out from inside the suit and around the head, because I didn’t want to touch him. My visor got real foggy from the effort, but I finally pulled the tag free. I read the name.

“And here’s the first one, Val. Quartermaster Vogel. Found in airlock…uh, T21, in his suit, but no helmet. Apparent C oh D: depressurization.”

“Recorded.”

”Right, I’m placing the first relay and closing the outer door.”

I stuck a radio relay on the interior surface of the airlock, then I shut the external airlock door.

“Val?”

“I read you, Sam. The relay gets through. Once you get the inner airlock door open, don’t close it unless you need to.”

“Alright, mom. So where am I going?”

“I’m not seeing any activity from here.”

I checked my gauges once again. Then the airlock’s interior control panel. The hall inside was at zero pressure too. Bad news for anyone who was inside when that happened. I tapped on the controls, and the door slid open with no problem.

“Well, I guess if there is anyone left, they’re all at the bow. The airlocks will slow me down, but I think I can—”

An ear-splitting ringing in my helmet interrupted me. I slammed down the acknowledgement button on my collar to shut off the vibration/drift alarm, grabbed the closest handrail, and yelled:

“Val! The ship’s still warm! She’s moving!”

“Negative, Sam. One of the solar panels was resisting the ram and just gave in. Your suit caught the vibrations. There are now two active solar panels. Essential electrical systems should be going back online now.”

Right on cue, the dim emergency lights on floor flickered off, and a bright overhead lighting picked up. I waited another few seconds, but there were no new alarms.

“Okay, I was about to say I’m going up towards the bow. Null pressure, as before.”

“Sam, is there a console near you?”

“There are probably some in the cabins just off this hallway. Why?”

“Your relays are picking up a signal that’s not yours, on the interior communications band. Band eighty, to be precise.”

“Probably the big boss’ mike that he forgot to turn off before going on vacation. Switching to eighty and then right back to you.”

I switched. And in my helmet, I heard this:

“…lp me! Please! I know there’s someone out there! I’m in here! Answer me! Don’t leave me here! Please!”

It was a woman’s voice. On the edge of a panic attack. No, scratch that. Deep in a panic attack.

Continue to part three

Albert