“It didn’t work then. Wonder why the guy in the Patroller took a dislike to us so much?”
“Who knows,” said Ryann. “Maybe they thought we were pirates or something?”
“You do have that look about you,” replied Angelique with a grin. “Well, that all sounds plausible. Someone broke through all the doors to steal her — then the moment that Patroller opened their airlock-doors it depressurised the entire ship. Now that would be poetic justice to a gang of ship-jackers.”
“Well we don’t know who they were, so let’s stay sharp just in case any of them did survive. Where do you want to start — generator deck?”
Angelique shook her head, pointing her flashlight down the corridor that led off to their left.
“Head for the bridge. The Ibis died not long after that Patroller took out her heat-distributers. If my guess is right, and the crew just overcooked the drives, we might be lucky and be able to reboot the systems from there.”
“And if we’re not lucky?” asked Ryann, wiping a layer of frost from a corridor marker.
Angelique laughed grimly.
“Then I hope you know how to rewire a blown power distribution network on a fifty-thousand tonne ship.”
“Ah, you’ll figure it out, you always do,” said Ryann with a wink, leading the way cautiously down the darkened corridor.
CHAPTER NINE
GHOST SHIP
They didn’t encounter a single sign of life as they made their way towards the bridge. They passed along narrow corridors, up flights of steps and over rusting walkways. But the further they went, the greater a sense of foreboding seemed to hang in the air. They passed empty corridors branching off into the darkness, and as they shone their flashlights into the gloom they caught faint glimpses of habitation — cabins, sleeping-quarters, a recreation room, a galley. Everything was empty and silent.
Not a single light shone on the electrical panels, and the place was beginning to feel like a ghost ship.
A bed in the sleeping quarters lay unmade, as though its occupant had just got up and left only moments before. Half-filled glasses and dirty dishes sat upon the table in the rec-room; some lay broken upon the floor, no doubt disturbed during the bombardment from the Patroller.
Every step they took towards the bridge felt as though the pressure were mounting, and they found themselves glancing around nervously as they passed the open doorways. Each hatch they passed hung open, the locking bolts burned through just like the outer airlock door.
“Why cut open every hatch if you just want to steal a damn ship?” whispered Angelique nervously.
But Ryann didn’t answer; his throat was dry and all he could focus upon was the sound of his own strained breathing inside his helmet.
He stopped, crouching down, and Angelique quickly did the same. They flipped off their flashlights in unison, instantly plunging the corridor into blackness.
They waited there, unmoving, desperate to remain silent.
For a brief moment before he had turned out his light, Ryann had spied the shape of a figure at the far end of the corridor crouching in a half-open doorway.
“What is it?” came Angelique’s nervous whisper in his earpiece, making him jump.
Ryann didn’t reply.
They waited, counting their breaths, straining to make out any sign of movement in the darkness. Ryann had found himself a carving knife by now whilst scouting the galley. He gripped the handle tightly in his fist.
It took an age before he could bring himself to move, cautiously edging forwards through the darkness, the knife held out in front of him.
But it was no use, he could see nothing at all. Finally he came to a decision and turned on his flashlight, holding it out to one side in the hope it might help to avoid getting him shot.
He jumped as the sudden beam of light illuminated the frozen features of a corpse straight ahead of him. The visor of the figure’s helmet had been smashed, and his mouth hung open in a silent scream. He lay slumped against the hatch, his torso wedged in the gap as though he had died attempting to squeeze through. One arm was stretched out towards him, giving the impression that, even in death, the corpse were imploring him for help.
Ryann got warily to his feet, casting his flashlight over the grisly scene.
“He’s dead,” he whispered at last.
“Can you tell what killed him?” murmured Angelique in a shaken whisper as she switched her light back on.
“Well, it wasn’t old age,” muttered Ryann grimly. As Angelique approached he heard her gasp.
“Oh god Ryann, what the hell happened to him? He didn’t die in the depressurisation. He looks like he was running from something. This place is beginning to freak me out — there’s something really strange going on here.” Angelique’s voice had a note of rising hysteria as she stared down at the body.
“We’re nearly at the bridge,” said Ryann in a reassuring tone, reaching forward and taking hold of the hatch. “It’s not far beyond this section. Once we get the power and the lights back on, everything will look less scary. Give me a hand to get this open.”
He heaved at the door and it moved a little. The body fell forward heavily, making Angelique cry out in alarm. She stared down at the scene in horror: the torso had been severed cleanly in half, the two pieces laying in a gruesome display at her feet.
“What the hell?” cursed Ryann, stepping back in alarm.
“Ryann, I don’t like this one bit,” croaked Angelique. “What the hell’s going on?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“And who the hell killed him?” she asked in rising panic. “You said that there couldn’t be anyone else aboard that Patroller. And why cut open every single door in the ship? It’s as though someone was systematically going through, making sure there was nowhere left to hide!”
“Hey, come on,” sighed Ryann. “Don’t let your imagination run away with you. There’s bound to be an
