Benjamin Allocco - Deathform

She paused on the ladder at level two, looking through the open doors down the hallway. She’d always thought of this level as Bel’s nervous system. Each room contained some vital machinery that kept the crew alive. Mainframe, life support, air filtration, water recycling and heating. The machines ran better in Zero-G, so the whole level free-floated most of the time. The grav tanks were toward the bow. They were her sole purpose for being on the ship. As complex as any medical equipment could be, they had to run smoothly to ensure no casualties during a jump. That meant keeping up with the crew’s body mass and programming nutrient levels and double and triple checking the seals. She’d never seen a malfunction, but heard stories. Rooms coated in viscera. Whole crews starved to death when the nutrient lines froze. It’s why med techs were required on ships with gravity drives. Too many people turned to jelly. She skipped the tanks for now. She’d get her fill of them later, no doubt.

The third level was where the crew spent most of their time. The kitchen and dining area to the rear along with food storage, crew quarters in the middle, the bridge at the very tip of the bow. As with the second level, it was really one long hallway sectioned off at the landings where the shafts came through.

She made for her old quarters and wiggled the handle. Unlocked. The only personal effects were a rumpled bedspread and a few cabinets full of stationary. She could tell from the legal pads and the med kit on the wall that this was the previous tech’s room. Toward the end of her stay, she’d spent more time in Jack’s quarters than her own. So much could change in four years. She’d been a foolish little girl who believed she could fix a seriously damaged man. Only managed to damage herself in the process. Go figure.

She shut the door and continued down the hall, running a hand along the white walls. These walls used to make her feel trapped, like she’d gone from working in a hospital to living in one. But now there was something calming about them. Today they felt like a break from the noise, the garbage stink and mud of Starvation City.

The only room she did not recognize was off the corridor near the observation deck. It was a little shocking to find, this renovation, and she wondered for a moment if she’d boarded the wrong ship. She was about to step inside when Bel told her someone had remotely lowered the loading tunnel.

The crew.

She rushed back the way she came, sliding down the shaft, palms squeaking on the metal, then back through the cargo hold and to the airlock chamber.

A cold breeze blew up through the tunnel. She leaned forward to see. Heard footsteps.

Whispers.

Distant forms.

She hung back. Jack had mentioned trouble. What if it’s not the crew?

She poked her head out.

A muzzle flash and bang.

Something went crunch .

She fell backward, darkness all around.

“Lana!”

He finds her lying on her back, blinking at the ceiling. Above, one of the lighting strips has blown out. There’s a big hole in it. He kneels and checks her vitals, pats her down and inspects his hands for blood, whispering over and over, “You’re alright.” Her pupils are dilated. She’s in shock. He cannot find a wound. Strong pulse. Fast pulse. Rising pulse. Face getting red.

“You fucking shot at me?” she says.

Dino’s voice comes from behind him. “That was me. Sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry?”

She looks like she might bite someone.

She drops her head, arches her back, and laughs until she runs out of breath.

The others stand with nervous smiles.

Finally she says, “It’s good to see you too, Dino.”

Jack helps her to her feet.

She brushes herself off and runs her hands through her hair and points at the busted light. “That’s some welcome.”

Apart from being shot at, it really is good to see everyone. Dino takes her into a bear hug and apologizes endlessly. She promises to never let him live it down. Stetson grins and slaps her shoulder and Hunter shakes her hand in a steely grip. It’s a type of reunion and feels like it. She’s supposed to be here. She’s sure of it. Attempted murder and everything. She wants to ask how they are, what they’ve been up to, what she has missed, but there will be time for that later. She introduces herself to the new guy, Justin, Jack’s nephew, blonde kid with big dark eyes. She can see the resemblance. He nods awkwardly and mumbles something she can’t quite hear. And then she is face to face with Jack, who has not recovered from nearly finding her dead.

“I’m not sure who’s more shook up,” she says.

He touches her elbow. “You’re sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. I swear.”

He stares at her, eyes welling up.

The crew looks on, embarrassed. It’s a private moment in full view. He wants to say a whole lot more.

Not now, Jack.

She slaps him lightly on the cheek and successfully breaks the moment. “Come on, bud. We’ve got work to do, yes?”

She walks with him for pre-takeoff inspection, checking for anything loose that might cause problems in Zero-G or during the subsequent grav jump. He fills her in on the details. The pirates, the stolen loot, the confrontation at the hotel and the strange note. This was the first job he’d taken with the Dandy in a while. It started out normal enough.

“You think you’re being set up?” she says. She’s voiced concern about the Dandy’s trustworthiness in the past. Something about him always felt off.

“With Dandy?” Jack says. “Absolutely. Maybe you shouldn’t have come back.”

“A little late for that.”

“We’re still on the ground,” he says. There’s no irony in his voice.

“Wait a minute. You barge into my clinic and beg me to follow you, and like an idiot, I do. Then your personal security nearly blows my head off, and you want me to leave?”

“Want? No.”

“You never knew what you wanted.” The words surprise her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine. You’re right, anyway.”

Old puppy dog Jack already feeling sorry for himself.

Still. She can’t help feeling sympathetic. He’s got problems.

Back in the cargo bay airlock, they check that the shovers are secured and find three loose tie down straps. They either came off during landing or someone forgot to secure them after unloading the shipment. Justin has been shirking his duties, Jack says. Half-assing things. Little chores, mostly. Changing the garbage, sweeping the bay, cleaning the toilet. But a loose shover careening around an airlock could cause a hell of a lot of damage. He’ll talk to him.

They walk the new room, the addition by the observation deck. There are square seals arranged in a pattern on the tile floor. Jack says these are the hideaway seats. Against the far wall, a holo monitor. She counts seven EVA helmets plugged firmly on their holders, several lockers that must contain the rest of the suits. Straight ahead of the main doors, a narrow hallway leads farther in. Halfway down, a door on the left opens into a storage room. Looks like food and water, mostly. At the end of the hall on the right, a cramped lavatory.

All at once, she knows what this is. “An escape pod,” she says.

Jack nods. “We call it the panic pod. Anything goes wrong, you get here fast and shut the doors. There’s no other way inside. She’s sealed off from Belinda completely. O 2and water filtration can last up to two years. There’s enough food for about half that right now, but space for more. Six suits for the crew, plus one spare.”

There are no grav tanks, she notes.