lifeboat systems were going offline, one after another. In the strictest terms, this was not a huge problem. When traveling at half the speed of light, lifeboats were useless anyway. If there was a serious problem aboard ship, none could escape death by abandoning Gladius. Small ships didn’t have the propulsion required to decelerate enough to make a safe landing. In past cases where lifeboat exits from interstellar craft had been attempted, the results had been dramatic and troubling. Anyone in such a small craft traveling at such extreme speeds often slammed into the planet of their destination at speeds measured in millions of miles per hour-or more likely, they sailed through the system entirely and vanish into deepest space.
Extreme speeds caused other deadly hazards as well. Large vessels such as Gladius had a field generated in the nose section, an electromagnetic trick of physics that prevented the bits of stardust and debris that floated everywhere in the cosmos from piercing the hull. Traveling at tremendous speeds, a grain of sand became a tiny bullet that would puncture the ship’s skin and anyone inside the hull. The forward fields prevented such catastrophes.
Lifeboats, however, had neither protective fields nor powerful engines. In short, they were useless during long-range crossings of the void. Knowing all this, the midshipman who discovered the anomaly in the lifeboat pods did so without grave concern. The ensign who received the midshipman’s boring report was equally disinterested. He filed an email, and a copy of the work-order was sent to all the lower deck maintenance people, most of who were hibernating in cryo-sleep. The ensign knew the matter would be properly handled in a few weeks, when the majority of the crew would be awakened for the long months of coasting in space. At that point, there would be plenty of time for repairs on relatively useless systems.
#
Third-rate maintenance crewman Garth was a tall, gangling man who rarely spoke and who had been cursed with a haunting stare. After the aliens had been hunted down and expunged from Gladius, Garth had been found hiding in the vast hold and declared a stowaway. His status was upgraded to that of ‘refugee’ after it was determined he’d survived the horrors of both Garm and Neu Schweitz. Taking pity on the skinny wretch with coal- black eyes, the Captain had ordered that he be released from the brig and assigned to cleaning the engine rooms to earn his keep. Garth performed his duties as a silent, ghostly presence. Others tried to befriend him, but they were routinely ignored until they gave up.
Seventeen standard days before the coasting period began, Garth received a memo in his email box. It was a work-order, suggesting that some unknown level of maintenance was required in the lifeboat berths on the starboard side of the ship. Garth studied the email with concern. The order was vague, saying a warning alarm had been tripped, but there was nothing about the cause nor the solution. He was to ‘investigate’ this ‘anomaly’. Neither of these words were ones that Garth welcomed. After dealing with the alien Skaintz on multiple occasions, he’d come to recognize their operational signatures. This could be nothing at all-or it could be the end of everything.
Garth tucked his computer scroll into his utility belt, tightened the touch-seals on his coveralls and headed for his supply closet. The door groaned on metal hinges as it swung open. Inside was his kit: a self-propelling cart mounted on an octagonal anti-grav pad. A bewildering array of power tools, cleaning systems and a central trash compactor made up the bulk of the kit. A tall suction-mop stood clipped to the compactor. The ragged head of the mop flapped like a pennant as he pushed the humming contrivance down the tube-like corridors.
Garth passed one or two crewman on his wending way down to the lifeboat pods. Often, they waved or called out a salutation, but Garth did not respond-he never did. His eyes might flick to theirs, but after a fleeting moment of contact, his vision roved elsewhere. The crewmen shrugged, unoffended. He was the weird maintenance guy-there was nothing unusual about his behavior.
To reach the lifeboat pods, he had to travel through the forward hold. Garth didn’t like the hold. It was too big, and too impossibly full of unknowns. Mountains of equipment and trade goods filled the chamber, which was miles long and dimly lit. His eyes never ceased trying to examine everything as he walked through the hold. Now and then, he thought he heard an odd sound, but although he halted the cart and paused stock-still, listening intently, he never heard it again. After a moment he continued on his way, more agitated than before.
At long last, he reached the lifeboat pods. He hesitated at the entrance. The indicator lights on the pressure bulkheads were all green. But electro-mechanical systems could not detect malevolent intent.
Finally, he touched the actuator and the door dilated open with alarming speed. He took a single step forward-and halted.
It was the smell. He knew that smell. Acrid and dank at the same time. A smell like that of industrial waste mixed with rotting seafood. It wasn’t just the odor-the nature of the air itself inside the pod was wrong. It was too warm, and too humid.
He could see a dozen lifeboats aligned silently in a neat row in the dimly lit interior. None of them appeared to be damaged. There were no slime-trails on the floor, nor over the sleek surfaces of the ships.
Regardless, Garth remained frozen at the entrance. His cart hummed, and an uncontrolled burbling sound came from his lips. Otherwise, he was motionless and quiet. His eyes, however, roved the scene. There had to be something. There always was.
Then he saw it. A glistening spill of liquid on the deck plates beneath the nearest lifeboat. It appeared to be a transparent puddle of- something. Mechanical lubricant dribbling from the aft section of the lifeboat? Alien digestive fluids? He didn’t know which it might be. But he was certain he had no intention of mopping up the mess, orders or no.
When Garth finally did move again, it was with smooth decisiveness. He shoved his cart forward, letting it glide toward the nearest lifeboat. Then he darted out a long, thin arm and slapped the button to close the bulkhead. It flashed closed with alarming rapidity. But not before he saw a shadow move toward the cart. Something small, something hard to see…something with many churning legs. It was chasing after the cart, pursuing it like prey.
The moment the door flashed closed, he touched a yellow actuator, locking the bulkhead and sealing it. He knew it would not hold them for long, but perhaps it would be long enough. Then Garth turned, and he ran.
The former skald gone rogue was tall and thin, but he was not a weak man. He could move with speed when needed. At this moment, he felt that speed was indeed required. He ran with long steps back through the hold. His knobby knees rose up high with each step, and his feet snapped down and propelled him away from the pod doors as fast as he could go. He had not wasted a moment of the passing months under acceleration. He’d hardened his muscles to an athletic level of strength, fearing the day speed would be required, and he’d be too weak to run under the G-forces.
He heard no sounds of pursuit as he crossed the hold, but that did not mean the enemy were not coming after him. He kept running until his breath came in gasps and hitches…and then he ran farther still.
After a mile or so, he reached another bulkhead, which exited the great central hold. He stepped through, damaged the mechanism to keep it from opening behind him, and continued running. Before he reached the elevators, his stomach rebelled from so much fear and effort. He retched in the hallway, wiping his mouth and staggering onward. When he reached the elevator, he pushed the button to call the mechanism to his floor. The elevator was designed for large freight, and thus was ponderously slow. He doubled over and panted, trembling with exertion.
Garth was a paranoid man, but he was not easily panicked. His terrified flight was controlled and logical- rather than random and thoughtless. Now that he could not remove his person farther from the enemy for a moment, he chose to alert the crew. This was not done from any sense of altruism. He simply and automatically calculated his personal odds of survival were higher if he warned the others. Not much higher, but it was still worth the effort.
He touched the communication system on his spacer coveralls and removed it from where it adhered to his chest. He brought the device close to his lips and transmitted over the ship’s emergency channel.
“An alien presence has been detected. The starboard lifeboat berths are compromised. Take appropriate action. I am Garth-”
He cut off then, as the elevator doors opened behind him. He removed the tiny communications device and tossed it away over his shoulder. No bigger than a shirt button, it made a tiny plinking sound when it hit the deck plates. The enemy used radio transmissions to communicate among themselves and Garth knew they would be listening and tracking all such transmissions. He had no intention of allowing them to track him via this device. He had given the crew warning enough, it was up to them, now.
