Loneliness
The airlock doors opened.
Light seeped through the opening, spilling into the darkness of the cargo hold beyond, shadows cascading behind the boxes and canisters.
The distress beacon had led here, a dirty cargo vessel floating aimlessly in space. The life readings had come up empty, save for a very faint blip on the readout.
The beam of the torch now pierced the blackness as the airlock closed behind, a thin veil of dusty air visible as the shadows danced away onto the dank metal grating of the floor and spread up onto the rusted walls - this ship must have been empty for a long time, or in a sorry state in the first place.
There were no sounds aboard the ship, save for the slow breathing coming from my suit and my steady footsteps on the metal grating of the floor.
“Please captain, a member of my crew has taken ill.”
The message I received was standard fare, though somewhat cryptic in certain respects. I expect that was more not wanting to put too much trust in a stranger out here in The Black than anything else.
“She began complaining of headaches some days ago, but they appear to have become much worse and she can barely stand.”
Again, standard fare. It was the muffled voice in the background that intrigued me, barely audible over the crackling of the audio static.
“Tell him about the visions-”
He was cut off sharply by the good doctor, she was not best pleased by the outburst.
“I’ll tell the captain when he comes aboard,” then she continued back to me, “you will be here soon, yes?”
I’d reassured her I would be a matter of days, that they should remain calm and I would bring what medical supplies I could spare.
The boxes and various other items of cargo snaked this way and that, making it a longer journey than necessary to get to the crew deck. Still, I had to be cautious as this ship should have had four crew members aboard and yet when I arrived there were apparently none.
Except for that damn blip on the scanner…
A small trickle of liquid poured over the edges of the grating and into the darkness underneath - looks like one of the containers had sprung a leak. Upon inspecting the container I found it contained no hazardous chemical so I continued on, finally reaching the steps up to the crew deck.
A long corridor stretched out into the gloom, a single halogen strip lit the far end in front of the cockpit door.
There were four other doors, two on each side, bland sheets of dull steel with various words or names etched on them in faded lettering.
Another halogen strip buzzed loudly as it pinged into life at random intervals, before quickly returning to darkness, shadows and light flashing in and out of existence in the blink of an eye.
Not exactly a sight to fill you with confidence.
The first door on the left had been jammed shut, so I’d continued into the door on the right instead, marked “CREW BUNKS: JENSEN/KEYES”.
Jensen and Keyes obviously weren’t here, what with the lack of life signs and all, but all their effects were still packed neatly into the trunks at the end of their respective beds.
A green light blinked on the console by Keyes’ bed. A log perhaps? Something to explain the lack of crew?
I pressed the button, the picture was nothing but static though the sound came through fine.
“The doctor has me confined to quarters, won’t say why. The captain had to put the ship on auto and lock himself in his quarters, too!”
The message doesn’t exactly make me feel any better about this place.
“Jensen must be contagious or something, but why won’t anyone say what’s going on?”
A noise can be heard outside the room, the click of a button being pressed is heard next to the speaker.
“Doc, is that you? Is Jensen okay?”
No answer. Another click is heard, presumably a direct link to the captain.
“Captain, has the doc spoken to you?”
Still no answer.
“Damn it all to hell, am I the only one staying in my room as ordered? strawberry float this, I’m gonna go take a look outside.”
There is some rustling audible as Keyes must be getting up from his bunk, then the sound of a door opening can be heard in the background.
“Jensen? What are you doing up?”
There is a slight click as the log is terminated. This trip really is all about answers, isn’t it?
My gun is now out of its holster. You know, just in case.
Opening the door, the flickering light still waited patiently like a dog waiting for its master, I turned left and headed to the next pair of doors.
Turning my torch to the left, the thin beam of light fell on the block lettering of the “MESS HALL.”
The door slid open to reveal a small table in the centre of the room, lit by a single bare bulb that sent shadows scurrying into the corners of the room. In the corner there was a kitchen cloaked in darkness, filthy grey tiles surrounded the sink area, itself filled with browning plates piled seven or eight high.
The plastic chairs were strewn around the table at various angles, one or two of them with legs turned upwards following some sort of struggle.
Heading back outside, the door opposite read “CAPTAIN SMITH”. No prizes for guessing whose bunk this is.
Inside there was a single bed by the far wall, barely visible in the darkness of the room. A small set of drawers sat to the right covered in dust, but that was it.
One thing did catch my eye as I turned to leave: the screen of Smith’s computer was still on, a smeared bloody handprint covering it from corner to corner.
It’s at this point that I wanted to get the hell outta Dodge, but that ol’ morbid curiosity kicked in and I had to find out what happened here.
Then it hit me. The Black Box!
The torch beam was noticeably shakier now as I turned right out of the captain’s room to the cockpit door. I leant my hand on the door release button on the wall.
The door opened a crack and stopped.
Carefully I moved forward, my eye moving ever closer to the slit in the door, trying desperately to get a glimpse of what lay beyond.
The door suddenly squealed open, I was hit by something and knocked sprawling on the floor on my back, my torch skidding across the floor.
I knew something was wrong when I first got on board, but seeing the butchered corpse of the captain, hanging from the ceiling of the cockpit really was at the top of my list of things I did not want to see on this trip.
I cast about as I got up, waiting to see the captain’s killer about to leap on me with murder in his/her eye. But I saw nothing. Not a soul in sight.
I shakily got to my feet and cut the captain down, sitting him by the door as I quickly went inside and shut myself in.
“The doctor was the first to go, Jensen slit her throat in the night and stuffed her body in the incinerator.”
Straight to the point, the captain really didn’t pull any punches in his report.
“Keyes disappeared the same night, I’ve yet to find his body. I can feel in my gut that he’s dead. I’ve locked myself in the cockpit, all I can do now is await the arrival of the supply ship we called when Jensen first took ill.”
That would be me, the schmuck who has now locked himself in the same room the captain died in.
Time to leave this place.
The cockpit door opened, the same dark corridor stretched out before me into the cargo hold.
The light flickered at the other end of the corridor, briefly illuminating the mutilated figure of Jensen standing with a scalpel in her hand. The blonde-haired woman had a bloodied white smock on, torn in several places to reveal the red scars on the flesh of her stomach and chest, her bare legs covered in blood stains and more scars.
Her eyes were almost whitened out, the palest of blues fixed on me for what felt like days, but as the flickering of the light ended, she shrank back into the darkness beyond.
“Jensen?” My voice was awful shaky, didn’t sound like mine at all.
Remembering my gun and torch were by my side, I pointed both at the end of the corridor in time to see the silhouette of Jensen darting into the darkness of the cargo hold.
gooseberry fool, the direction I need to go to get out of here.
After carefully looking into the empty, but thoroughly bloody, infirmary as I passed (I guess Keyes didn’t make it, then), I arrived at the steps to the cargo hold once more.
There was a loud crack as the lights suddenly whirred into life, freezing my blood as I noticed what was left of Keyes’ body plastered over the wall above a canister of some sort-
It dawned on me as my eyes travelled down the canister that I could have avoided this whole mess had I just paid more attention earlier: the trickling liquid I’d heard earlier and dismissed was actually Keyes’ blood pouring down the side of the canister.
This thought didn’t last long, however, as the world suddenly exploded with light as something smashed into the side of my head, knocking me to the floor.
As I pondered my day over the cornflakes I had for breakfast this morning, I did not really expect it to end this way.
I did not expect to find a ship with its crew dead and me next on the list.
I did not expect to see more innards than a slaughter house.
And had I expected a blonde woman to be jumping on me, it would most certainly have been more fun than this!
But jumping on me she was, scalpel in hand.
A scalpel that was rapidly descending…
“Oh fu-”
I certainly did not expect this day to end with a scalpel stuck through my eye socket.
