Chapter 4: 4. Preparation

“I’m so glad,” Engineer Mullins gasped.

“That Captain DeRosa,” another ragged breath brought his words to a wheezing halt.

“Insisted on crew members maintaining an exercise routine,” Chris managed to finish while he struggled to keep up with Malik.

A half smile twisted Rosen’s lips as he slowed his jog to match Chris’ flagging stride. Eight long minutes had passed since they’d departed from the bridge and the urgent pace he’d set was beginning to overwhelm the younger man.

“Save your breath,” the XO said without interrupting the smooth rhythm of his steps. “We’ve only got a hundred yards till we reach the armory. You can take five while I gather up the things we’ll need.”

After hastily descending three decks, the two men had set off down the large central corridor that ran the length of the Starlight Journey, from bow to stern. Three and a half meters wide by three meters tall, the passageway traversed the entire eight hundred meter length of the Journey. Affectionately dubbed ‘The Tritanium HIghway,’ the corridor served as the primary artery for travel between the ship’s sections. It also provided the only route available to transport heavy equipment, like the bulky exoframes, inside the hull.

Sometime in the last three minutes the red emergency lights had shut off, replaced by the sterile white glow of the LEDs set into the ceiling overhead. Malik found himself, for the first time in years, taking stock of the old Highway while the thump of Mullin’s boots chased him down the corridor. The tritanium floor looked as spotless as it had the day they’d left orbit, but the steel walls were scratched at irregular intervals that spoke of the accidents that were bound to happen over the course of their long deployment. Brightly labeled pipes ran down the length of the walls, occasionally diving into the floor or rising into the ceiling. The ceiling showed the most signs of wear, with several segments of the steel grating outright missing. Long since scavenged to make repairs in other areas of the craft, the missing tiles exposed countless wires who’s webwork would have put the most industrious of spiders to shame.

His home among the stars had seen better days. But it was his home. Malik felt his chest tighten as a mixture of anxiety and sadness closed around his heart like a clumsy fist squeezing the last dregs of nutripaste from an empty tube. This ship, this glorious, sometimes dysfunctional ship, may have reached the end of its service as his home. But Malik vowed to himself, as he stepped through a heavy bulkhead, that he would not allow his home to end its existence as a tomb. He would see the people aboard Starlight Journey safely to the planet’s surface, or he would die trying.

Shortly after his unspoken promise to himself, and his crew, the Journey lurched hard enough that the two men had to slow their pace and use the pipes lining the walls as impromptu railing to steady themselves. For several moments the alarming quake rattled through the superstructure, making Malik worry that they’d badly misjudged the timetable they had to work with. Luckily, by the time he came to a stop outside the armory, the tremors had subsided once more.

“Do you...,” Chris began, finally finding his voice again as he stumbled to a halt behind Malik. The XO didn’t even glance over his shoulder as the engineer spoke. Instead, he focused his attention on the keypad built into the wall next to a hexagonal door made of reinforced tritanium. Nonplussed by Malik’s lack of response, Mullins closed his pale green eyes and leaned back to rest against the wall across the corridor.

An audible clack behind Malik pulled his attention away from the keypad his fingers danced across. Tossing a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught Chris removing his helmet to run the splayed fingers of his free hand through his dark hair. Visibly damp with sweat, the younger man’s hair rose in irregular spikes as he tried to comb it dry with his fingers.

“Do you...,” Mullins started, but didn’t make it any further this time than he did last time. Though this time the reason for the interruption was considerably different.

“Get that helmet back on, sailor,” Malik said curtly before his lips pressed together in a thin, pale line of disapproval.

“But,” the engineer began, intent on pleading his case. One look at the XO’s clenched jaw dissuaded him from fighting a battle he was doomed to lose.

“Aye, sir,” Chris murmured dejectedly as he lifted his helmet and locked it back into place.

Malik waited until the engineer’s helmet was secured before he offered the seated man a curt nod of approval. “What were you going to ask?,” he said as he turned back to finish inputting his access code.

“What was I…Oh!,” Mullins replied, his breathing growing more even and his voice growing more sure by the heartbeat. “Do you think the other crew sabotaged the ship?”

“Captain said to focus on the task at hand,” Malik replied as he tapped out the final keystrokes of his access code. “We’ll have plenty of time to play detective once we’re planetside. Better to focus on what we need to do between now and then.”

A heartbeat after his fingers stopped, a green light bloomed to life in the center of the armory door. A hiss of changing pressure accompanied the tritanium bulwark drawing back into the room beyond and then sliding to the side. Before the passage had completely opened, a pale glow began to stream through the threshold as the LEDs inside the vault bathed the chamber in wane light.

“Come on, Mal,” Chris grumbled as he levered himself up to stand on shaky legs. “I heard what the Cap’n said. I didn’t ask about that.” The engineer’s slow, methodical steps carried him into the armory after the XO moved inside. “I want to know what you think. You’re allowed to have your own opinion.”

“Opinions are like assholes, Chris,” the taller man replied as his faceted blue eyes quickly took inventory of the equipment arrayed throughout the vault. “Everybody’s got one and they all stink.”

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“But..,” Mullins began, only to be cut off as Malik directed him forward with a curt gesture.

“Grab one of the med scanners and a fab pack,” Malik said, directing Chris toward the nearby wall where three backpack-sized tanks hung by their shoulder straps. On a shelf next to the three fabrication tanks sat four computer tablets with plassteel screens.

While the engineer moved forward to slip on the fabrication unit, Malik moved deeper into the chamber to take stock of what remained in the armory. And, perhaps more importantly, what didn’t. His steps came to a halt beside the storage shelf that should have held four field terminal processing units. Instead, the shelf held only a single unit.

One of Malik’s hands rose to open his helmet’s integrated comm. “This is Aries-1 for Starlight Journey actual. Do you read, over.”

In the quiet moments before the bridge replied, Malik trailed one gloved fingertip across the jagged holes punched through the terminal’s closed case. For a few fluttering heartbeats it seemed like the walls were closing in. His breath quickened and a sensation of vertigo swept through him that made him feel like he was falling into the darkness that lay on the other side of that hole.

“This is Starlight Journey actual,” Sarah’s voice, clear, crisp, and calm, suddenly filled his helmet. The XO closed his eyes, breathing in a slow, shuddering breath while the comms officer continued. “What is your status, over.”

Malik allowed himself one more slow breath to quell the torrent of emotions rolling through him. By the time he replied, he was already moving toward a different shelf further down the wall. “We are currently in the armory. Engineer Mullins has the gear Doctor Lisell requested. I will outfit both of us as best I can with the equipment that remains, but be advised that we only have three rifles and two utility belts.”

In the silence that followed, Rosen finished fastening one of the belts around his waist. He wasn’t surprised by the lack of comment from the bridge. The entire crew was likely considering that there should have been ten each of rifles and belts. Their absence spoke volumes about what 1st crew expected to encounter. And, by association, what 2nd crew should expect if, and when, they encountered their comrades.

At least, Malik thought grimly, there was some equipment left. The belt he now wore contained a multi-tool, a flare gun, and a few other pieces of survival gear. Most importantly, both of the belts had a bolt caster pistol and three clips of ammunition. Once he had his belt adjusted, he tossed the remaining one across the room to Chris. The young engineer clumsily grabbed at it twice before finally managing to catch it. Malik chose to ignore the withering look Mullins sent his way. Instead he moved on to the truly bad news of his report.

“Three of the field terminals and their associated drones are gone,” Malik said as he hefted one of the EM rifles and checked it for signs of tampering. Satisfied that it was in working order, he handed it to Chris after the man hastily stepped toward him.

“O’Brian, here,” came a tired voice through the speaker in his helmet. “There should be four terminals in storage. Please verify, Aries-1, over.”

Malik pointed toward Chris’ belt and then toward the rifle magazines that were meticulously arranged next to the weaponry. Without further encouragement, the engineer began storing as much of the ammunition as he could carry in his belt and vac suit.

“Acknowledged. There is a fourth drone and terminal, but the terminal shows significant damage consistent with what we found on the bridge.” With a rifle slung over each shoulder, Malik began gathering up what remained of the ammunition as an explosion of profanity, from at least three distinct voices, crackled across the comms channel.

“Clear the comm,” DeRosa barked, the channel instantly growing quiet as a graveyard. “Mullins, is the damage beyond repair?”

“I haven’t opened the case, Captain,” the engineer said as he stepped around the XO to examine the terminal first hand. “The bolts punched clear through the case, so there’s a possibility that the damage isn’t catastrophic.” Chris’ pale green eyes settled on Mal then, offering the other man a helpless shrug as he hedged, “I can’t give an accurate assessment without spending more time examining the terminal.”

A groan like a giant with a hangover rumbled through the ship as it quaked in a series of sudden, violent shivers. Overbalanced by the fab tank on his back, Chis stumbled backward and fell to the floor with a strangled cry. Several seconds passed with the ship threatening to rattle apart beneath them before the last shudders finally subsided.

A quick step brought Malik to the cursing engineer. Clasping his hand, he heaved the other man back to his feet just as Tim’s voice filled the silent comms channel. “Jackson here. There’s a chance that we can cannibalize a medical scanner and an EM rifle for replacement parts, depending on what sort of damage we’re talking about.”

“Its worth a shot,” DeRosa said, her normally confident voice beginning to sound frayed. “Do it. And get those habitat modules jettisoned. I want a status update in fifteen. Starlight Journey actual, out.”

“You heard the lady,” Malik said, glad that Chris was already moving to grab a second scanner from the shelf. He didn’t bother to look back as he moved out onto the ‘Tritanium HIghway’ one last time. “We need to get those people pointed toward their new home.”

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